Reclaiming Carter
by Soleya
Summary: As always, SG-1's mission just went bust. Can they get Sam back? And even if they can... will she ever be the same?
1. 1,1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I probably shouldn't be allowed to. I'm dangerous.

Author's Note: First and foremost, a massive thank you to polrobin, who beta'd and smoothed out the rough spots. The most beautiful moments in this piece (and the title) came from her mind, and I can't take credit for them. Secondly, (though I hate warnings), she insisted (see how nice she is to all of you?) that I warn you about the content. So:

**WARNING**: Alludes to rape. Not happy. And it's rated M for other stuff, like a little language and... stuff that you shouldn't be reading if you're not 17. Any more gives the plot all away, and I just plain refuse. But you trust me, right? As Cole Porter would say, "It's always darkest just before they turn on the lights."

This fic is done, so no worries about that; I just probably won't get it all posted tonight because it's already midnight.

As always, your reviews make my heart glow and my fingers type faster.

**Reclaiming Carter**

**Part One: The Claim**

_The absence of alternatives clears the mind marvelously.  
~Henry Kissinger_

"So, what makes this planet so damned interesting?" Jack O'Neill surveyed his surroundings carefully. "Other than the trees?"

His second in command shrugged, shooting him a teasing smile. "Don't look at me, sir," Carter answered. "There's nothing I want."

"There is little evidence of recent Goa'uld activity on this planet, O'Neill," Teal'c chimed in. "I am, therefore, also uninterested."

Colonel O'Neill's eyes swung over to the young archaeologist. "Daniel?"

"If you'd been listening in the briefing, Jack, you'd know."

The colonel's stare stayed completely impassive and Daniel sighed. If he'd listened in the briefing? When was the last time _that_ had happened? "The MALP found very little evidence of human life, but further study with the UAV found buildings with an architectural style I've never seen before. This could be a completely new culture. If they're gone, I want to study the area, if they're not, I want to meet them!"

"Woot." Jack clearly couldn't have cared less.

"You are an irritating man," Daniel shot back. To his chagrin, it only made the colonel smile.

"And you love me for it."

Carter cleared her throat loudly. "If you two need a room, the nearest building is that way."

"Sweet!" Jack declared. "Let's go."

~/~

The path SG-1 was traveling was well-worn, with little evidence of overgrowth. It was clearly in use – or, at least, it had been until very recently. Daniel's excitement increased by the klik.

The rate of increase was matched only by the rising of the hair on the back of Colonel O'Neill's neck. He knew Teal'c felt it, too, as the Jaffa automatically dropped back a few paces. It was their standard military formation – Jack on point, the doctors in the middle, and Teal'c watching their six.

When Carter picked up the pace ever so slightly to catch him, he knew there was trouble for sure.

"Sir," she said ever so softly over his shoulder, "we're not alone."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Stand ready, Major."

"Yes, sir." He knew she was clutching her P90 a little closer as she dropped back to warn their resident dreamer, but their pace didn't change.

Until two kliks down the path, when a small contingent of men materialized in front of them. Both groups stood with their weapons ready and Jack couldn't help but feel he was being sized up for something else entirely.

"Uh, hello," Daniel greeted a bit awkwardly. "My name is Daniel Jackson; we're peaceful explorers."

No one spoke, but most of the men glanced at a single, taller man. He was their leader, Jack guessed, and that was… something. Still, the looks in their eyes and the way they apprised each member of his team was unsettling.

When Daniel next spoke, he addressed the man in charge. "This is Colonel Jack O'Neill, Major Samantha Carter, and Teal'c. We're very interested in learning more about your culture. Perhaps an exchange of ideas, or trade?"

Still, the aliens didn't speak. Even Daniel was getting unnerved.

"Do you, um, talk?" he asked. "I mean, can you understand us?"

The leader jerked his head. "Take her," he ordered. "Kill the rest."

Immediately, every weapon from both groups was trained on the other. If his words surprised SG-1, their military experience kicked in too quickly for it to be noticeable.

"Whoa, Nelly!" Jack exclaimed. "Let's not be hasty, huh?" Though he'd never seen their weapons before, he was already calculating odds, as he knew Carter and Teal'c were doing behind him. Seven aliens, four… Earthlings?... with two automatic weapons, Daniel's sidearm, and Teal'c's staff weapon – they'd be fine.

Until the leader moved his head again and more men appeared from the trees all around them. _Lots_ more men. Suddenly life looked less cheery.

"Can we discuss this?" Daniel spoke up. "I mean, really, we just got here."

"I have no interest in your speeches or your trade. Only in her."

"Ah, well, she's not really trade material," Jack answered woodenly. He was as primeval as the next guy, really, but that mentality always threw him for a loop. The fact that it was Carter and not just _any_ woman only made it worse.

"I believe you misunderstand me. I have no interest in trading for her. I take what I want."

Jack knew her face didn't falter – neither did her aim – but he could feel the fear sheeting off her over his right shoulder. He couldn't blame her; he wasn't entirely comfortable himself. And he'd be damned if he'd let them have her without a fight.

It was a hand motion this time that set everything into action, dozens of men coming at them from all sides. Daniel took down a few, as did Teal'c, and Jack and Sam let their P90's loose on the crowd – something they only did with the most hostile of men – but the aliens were just too close to start with, and there were just too many. All too quickly, it turned from a gun battle to a brawl as their weapons were knocked from their hands, and the odds didn't favor SG-1.

Daniel went down first, overwhelmed by sheer manpower. The three soldiers fared better against the mob, but it wasn't long before Jack heard a strangled high-pitched cry from behind him and knew it was all but over. Sure enough, he never even saw the pain stick that hit him from behind, but he didn't need to – the way it knocked him to his knees brought back some not-so-fond memories.

At least, if they were going to take her, Jack could say he'd tried his best. Not that that was any comfort.

Their weapons and vests were stripped from them, their hands bound behind their backs before the men were shoved to their knees in front of the tall man. Carter got a bonus – a rope with a long lead was tied around her neck and she was unceremoniously yanked to the leader and handed over to his control.

She looked _pissed_. And really, really frightened, but Jack was pretty sure only SG-1 saw that.

"Kill them," he ordered again.

"Hey!" Sam yelled angrily, catching his attention. "What the hell is going on?"

A smirk spread across his features as he approached her, slowly reeling in the rope that held her until his face was mere inches from hers. "I have no use for them," he murmured seductively. "Not as I do you."

Her throat shifted as she swallowed hard, but she held her voice even. She was hardly the team negotiator – in fact, she almost _never_ handled that – but it seemed she was the only one with any leverage. The thought was fairly sickening to all of them. "You don't have to kill them."

"Why shouldn't I?" he answered with a shrug.

"Because there's no point. Because you have what you want. Send them back through the Gate and they won't bother you again."

Jack knew that she and he both had entirely different ideas about that – it involved claymores and a rather large incursion force that ended with beating the crap out of that guy – but he kept his mouth shut. She got points for getting the man talking, at least – that was better than Daniel had managed thus far. Bullet _not_ in head was good.

Still, while her capitalizing on the creep's obvious attraction for her seemed to be the only option, he didn't have to like it. And he was running out of happy endings for that scenario. Quickly.

The alien's gaze flickered from Carter's blazing eyes to her lips and back up. "You have spirit."

"Or something," she shot back.

Abruptly, his free arm surrounded her lower back and pulled her hips into his. "Tell me again why I should free them."

That was enough. "Back off, asshole," Jack snarled, lurching to his feet, but a solid hit from one of the goons put him right back down.

"No woman has ever had the courage to attempt to bargain with me," the man sneered. "I will give you one last chance. Tell me why I should do as you ask."

SG-1 could tell the moment the full gravity of the situation hit their teammate – her throat went a little too tense, she blinked just a little too fast. She had to play this well.

"Because I will never cooperate if you don't."

"Then I will kill you as well," he answered smoothly.

"Fine."

The word was solid, fearless, and once again the gall of the woman took him aback. "You would die for them?" he asked, amused.

"I would do anything for them," she ground out through gritted teeth. "Even you."

Jack knew he should trust her. He knew they had better odds once they were on their feet and better yet once they could get reinforcements from the other side of the Gate, but his stomach was churning ridiculously hard and he couldn't help himself. "Carter, no."

But once again, his outburst earned him a violent reaction from the guards – this time, the butt of a gun to his temple sent him sprawling. Even as the world twisted, he could see the wince flash across his second's features.

It was far less disturbing than the malicious smile that grew on the face of the man who held her. "I have high hopes for you," he murmured, one hand still firm on the rope while the other ventured slowly from her hip up her stomach to cup a breast. With the rope around her neck, she couldn't pull back, and her eyes slipped closed.

So did Daniel's and Jack's.

"And because I would much rather enjoy you than kill you, I will make you a deal. Prove your worth, and I will let them go."

Wide and frightened, Carter's eyes found her CO's. Her plan, he realized, had been for them to escape and bring back help sometime _before_ the son of a bitch got his hands on her, and that had just been blown out of the water.

"Oh, if you're thinking what I think you're thinking, there ain't no way," Jack growled.

"I do not recall giving either of you a choice. Bring them to the outpost."

The crowd of men hauled SG-1 roughly to their feet and continued down the path at a grueling pace. The leader, unfortunately, kept Carter with him, out of reach or decent hearing distance from the rest of them.

"This is bad, Jack," Daniel said softly.

"She can't do this, Daniel."

"I don't think she sees a choice."

"Yeah, well, I'd rather be dead," Jack hissed.

"Major Carter will never allow such an event to occur while she may prevent it, O'Neill."

"Enough talking," one of the goons clipped from behind them.

The gun in his back shut Jack up, but Daniel had one more important thing to say. "We'll get her back, Jack. No matter what, we'll get her back."


	2. 1,2

Sam stared steadfastly at the DHD well after she had finished dialing Earth. Her team was in front of her and to her left, kneeling near the Gate, and she couldn't look at them. She just couldn't.

The fact that whoring herself out had been the _only_ way to keep them from seeing a firing squad somehow still didn't make her feel better. Her hands had shaken badly as she'd dialed, and she knew that seeing the looks on their faces would completely shatter the tiny thread of control she held.

The Gate swooshed to life, drawing her attention, but her eyes quickly slid shut as the tall man pressed up behind her and wrapped a possessive arm around her. "Send them through," he ordered.

"No!" She really wished he were about five feet further away as she spun to face him. "I told you you can't do that. They'll die." When he merely shrugged, she pressed, "We had a deal!"

"Indeed," the man smirked, "and you upheld your end nicely. But I merely promised to send them through the Gate, no more."

If not for the twenty thugs that surrounded him, she might have killed him on the spot. Gouging out his eyes sounded really, really good. But as it was, she settled for shoving her way out from between him and the DHD and backing away.

Unfortunately, though the rope had disappeared, it had been replaced by a decorative piece of solid silver that surrounded her neck and attached to a chain, so she didn't get far. The man had told her many times how well it suited her, and it gave her the ill feeling that she was officially his favorite new toy. The slinky dress he'd made her wear did nothing to dispel that view.

"Well, if you expect any future _cooperation_," she spat, "you will let them enter the iris code."

She knew she had him there, and she fiercely held her captor's eyes. She was almost positive he wasn't willing to lose his pet that quickly. Almost.

Without ever breaking eye contact, he stepped close and ran his hands around her hips to her rear, his fingers finding all the familiar places they had an hour ago. She gritted her teeth against the wince that threatened, but she knew she'd won.

"Free the glassed one," he ordered absently, a new goal in mind as his mouth sank to her neck. She could feel the intensity of his lust for her and it made her want to vomit. And as he shoved her roughly against the DHD, her imagination began sending images unbidden to the forefront – worst-case scenarios. Surely he wouldn't rape her here, in front of all his men?

In front of all _her_ men?

She shoved him back, hard. "Business first," she growled. Then, because she had her back to them (which she considered a blessing), she called, "Daniel?"

His voice was thick, and she knew he was crying. "It's done, Sam."

"Then go."

But there was silence behind her, and she knew she should have expected it – they would never leave her by choice, no matter what she said. A head nod from their leader fixed that, and a scuffle ensued.

"Wait."

The familiar, stone cold voice of her CO almost broke her, and she sagged heavily against the dialing device.

"I wanna know your name."

The leader shrugged nonchalantly – there couldn't be any harm. "I am Lewen, magistrate of the third district."

"Great. I'll be sure to write that on the Maverick that blows you to pieces. I'll even sign it for you on behalf of the whole SGC."

Suddenly, Sam realized her avoidance theory had been all wrong. Even if Daniel couldn't keep it together, Teal'c and the colonel would – for her sake. And the sheer, grating anger in his words, in this situation, anyway, was just a little bit heartwarming.

Yes, she knew that probably made her insane; she didn't care. She spun on her heel and managed to catch his eye just for a half-second before he disappeared into the event horizon, but it was more than enough.

Colonel O'Neill was going to kill him. Some way, somehow.

And so, even as Lewen dragged her away from the Gate and set a brisk pace down the path – he had a goal in mind, clearly – Sam felt a whole lot better.

~/~

General Hammond might have laughed at the prospect of his flagship team being shoved through the Stargate with their hands tied behind their backs.

If it had been all four of them.

And if their expressions weren't so damn grim.

Before he could even react, Colonel O'Neill met his eyes through the glass to the control room. "We need men, sir. Lots of them. And some serious artillery. Now."

"What the hell happened out there, Colonel?" the general asked.

Daniel, his hands freed by one of the airmen in the room, angrily swiped the tears from his face. "They kidnapped Sam."

Hammond's heart sank, but the effect of those words was nothing compared to the next set from Colonel O'Neill.

"The son of a bitch has already raped her once, and he's about to do it again."

A fist to the stomach would have hurt less. They all knew the risks of deploying women to the front lines, but still, it was sickening. And Sam was like a surrogate child – he had prayed over and over again that she would never have to live through such trauma.

"Sir," Walter spoke up, "SGs-13 and -18 deploy in twenty – they should be geared up. And SG-3 is in the infirmary today for their physicals."

For the millionth time in his years at the SGC, General Hammond wondered what he'd done to deserve such fantastic soldiers under his command. The sergeant had saved their asses more than once by keeping his head when it all went wrong. "Get them up here," he ordered. "The mission is scrapped. They're all going with SG-1."


	3. 1,3

In hindsight, a long trip and leaving Sam alone for an extended period of time was probably the worst choice Lewen possibly could have made – for himself. Sitting in the chamber she'd been given – merely tapestries and a bed – the false sense of courage that had propped her up through the whole ordeal faded quickly. She could do anything, she'd told herself, when her teammates' lives were on the line, but that was hardly the case any longer.

They had left the outpost behind in what Sam could only call mechanized transport – a wagon, almost, with an engine. All that mattered was that it carried her far faster than they could have traveled by foot, and as a result, she was far further from the Gate than anyone would have thought.

Including Colonel O'Neill.

And between the lack of necessity and the diminishing chances of rescue, the odds of Lewen putting his hands on her again were somewhere between slim and none. She would do what had to be done to save her team, but she was no one's toy.

So when he entered, closing the door behind him, she knocked the smirk off his face with a fist to the throat. As he reared back, she followed the movement, working with his own velocity to slam his head hard into the wall. A right cross finished the series, and Lewen slumped to floor, unconscious.

Sam shot off like a rocket – a cautious rocket – moving stealthily down corridor after corridor.

The place was like a damned maze. Of course. But she was used to that – no windows, few doors, just like a mothership – and she refused to let it bother her. It just meant she'd have to sneak around a little longer.

A little too long. The air around her erupted in a loud, grating noise, and she knew that, yet again, her overly merciful conscience had gotten her in trouble. She should have killed the bastard when she'd had the chance. She could almost hear Colonel O'Neill – and Teal'c, and her father, and just about every other man she'd ever known – scolding her for being such a softie. When would she learn?

Sure enough, two more turns landed her straight in front of a guard contingent – an armed guard contingent. Not quite prepared for a bullet in the head – not yet, anyway – Sam skidded to a halt, her hands in the air. "All right, all right," she grumbled. But they didn't try to apprehend her, and she knew what was coming before she even turned around.

Lewen's hand wrapped firmly around her throat as he drove her to the wall, the silver ring digging painfully into the base of her neck. "We had an agreement," he hissed, his vile breath hot on her face.

"I said continued," she rasped through the pain. "I didn't say for how long. Besides, you lied first."

The stare-off lasted an interminable time, his body pressed against hers, before the anger on his face twisted into amusement and he started to laugh.

"What the hell is so funny?"

"What you fail to understand is that it is your spirit that so draws me to you. I find your continued struggle incredibly… arousing."

His mouth smashed down onto hers, but she twisted her face away. "Sorry. Playtime's over."

"You will _not_ defy me!" Grabbing the ring around her neck, he swung her abruptly to slam face-first into the wall on the other side of the corridor.

"Well, that makes no sense," she grunted. "No such thing as spirited subordination."

"_In_subordination will only hasten your death!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she choked. "Cooperate or die. Got it. Shoot me now."

Since she'd asked for it, she wasn't particularly surprised when cold metal pressed against the base of her neck. In a way, she was grateful – a head shot would be quick and relatively painless. Her team would be disappointed, she knew, but maybe – just maybe – if word got back to them that she was already dead, Colonel O'Neill might actually get to use that Maverick missile he'd promised, and her captor would end up scattered in a million pieces.

Sadly, instead of a bullet, Lewen's voice hissed in her ear. "I have never met someone who does not fear death."

"I hear it's peaceful."

"Yes. And therefore much to good for a deceitful whore like you." He wrenched her painfully around and shoved up against her again. "I believe I've changed my mind," he murmured, sinking his teeth into her neck so hard she couldn't hold back a cry. "You're right. Spirit it is. And I think I shall enjoy this fight."

For the first time since their confrontation on the path, Sam was goodly and truly terrified. She'd driven him past the breaking point, and life was about to get very, very bad.

Lewen tore her from the wall and shoved her back to the guards. "Take her back to her room. Tie her down."


	4. 2,1

**Part Two: Hunting**

_One day Alice came to a fork in the road and saw a Cheshire cat in a tree.  
Which road do I take? she asked.  
Where do you want to go? was his response.__  
I don't know, Alice answered.__  
Then, said the cat, it doesn't matter.  
~Lewis Carroll_

The outpost they'd been taken to was a complete and total bust. Not only was it lightly manned – Jack didn't even get to shoot anyone – Carter and the magistrate were nowhere in sight. And none of the goons they, err, _pressed_ for information were helpful.

So, knowing how quickly the natives traveled along the roadways, the four SG teams split in two and melted back into the trees, each moving along a different road. The UAV buzzed overhead, searching for any other buildings or signs of civilization. Hammond was throwing everything he had into getting Carter back.

Which was good, because Jack would be in line for a serious court martial, one way or the other, if he hadn't. There was no way in hell he was leaving without Carter. And that bastard's head on a spike.

When he thought about what the son of a bitch was doing to her…

He clamped his mind against it and forced himself to focus on the task at hand. Every step, every sound, every lead was one move closer to Carter, and he had to hold on to that. He had to focus on that. Thinking about her – what might be happening to her – would consume him, and he couldn't afford it. In that moment more than ever, she needed him in top form. She needed him to find her.

"I really hoped she'd be there, Jack."

Jack barely spared his teammate a glance. "I know."

"He could be doing anything to her."

The glance this time was longer and much sharper, as was his tone. Like he needed a reminder. "I know."

"We should never have come here," Daniel said softly.

"Daniel!" Jack shot back harshly, keeping his voice low as they snuck across the terrain. "Tell me something I _don't_ know. Please."

The archaeologist was silent for a long time – a long time for him, anyway. Then, "This is all my fault. Whatever's happening to her… it's my fault."

That brought the team leader to an abrupt halt. "Daniel, look at me. All that matters now is getting her back in one piece."

"But what if the woman we bring back isn't Sam?"

"I can't… I can't think about that, Daniel. And neither can you. We _will_ find her. Now get moving."


	5. 2,2

SG-1 and SG-3 made their way carefully and silently through the underbrush, resolutely making their way to the newest target – a group of buildings found by the latest scout UAV. It was two days' walk from the Gate, but at the slow rate they were moving, searching for any hints of Carter, they were already on day three. Over two weeks of searching had left both teams tired and frustrated, but SG-1 was determined enough for the both of them. General Hammond's decision to withdraw SGs-13 and -18 nearly a week earlier had only shored up their resolve.

They would find her. They had to.

At the head of the pack, Jack came to an abrupt halt, one hand signaling the others to do the same. He exchanged a glance with Teal'c and Colonel Reynolds before speaking softly. "Do you hear that?"

"Dogs," Reynolds answered. "They're tracking something."

"Or someone. Let's go." Renewed in purpose, Colonel O'Neill took off quickly in the direction of the barking, followed closely by the rest of the deployment team. Hurrying through the woods, they soon came to the end of the road – the ground dropped off over fifty feet to the water below. The barking was clearer and louder there, echoing through the creek bed.

"Jack!" Daniel whispered urgently. "Jack! Look!"

Following Daniel's line of sight, O'Neill quickly located the cause of Daniel's excitement: two hundred yards downstream, a small, thin figure was slowly moving toward them. It was Sam.

Grabbing his binoculars, Daniel tried to get a closer look. The creek came up almost to her knees, but she trudged along doggedly. She wore only an oversized man's shirt which dragged in the water; it had once been white but was now torn and streaked with brown and red.

"Why the hell's she walking? Doesn't she hear the dogs?" Bosco asked anxiously.

Daniel saw the knife clutched in Sam's hand and followed the line up, past her bloody arms and to her face, pale and bruised. Her eyes were open but unseeing as she stumbled slowly along. "I don't think she hears anything," he answered. "She's in shock. Jack, we've gotta help her."

Giving only a rough nod, Jack started along the riverbed in a crouched run, the others close at his heels. They reached the left bank just as the brush across from them started to move, the barking now constant and far too close for comfort.

"Carter!" O'Neill hissed as loudly as he dared. "_Carter_!"

Sam didn't seem to hear him; she took slow step after slow step upstream. She was fading fast, a pronounced limp in her left leg and her progress slowing against the current. Finally she stopped, her teammates left to watch from the bank as she wobbled slightly, unsteady, then collapsed face-down into the stream.

Daniel leapt into action, racing out into the water to his fallen friend. Wrapping an arm firmly around her waist, he hauled her up out of the water and toward the shore.

"Do not touch her!" a voice ordered from the other bank.

"Looks to me like you all didn't take your own advice." Jack's words were deathly cold as he stepped up to the edge of the stream, gun in hand. Daniel knew his friend would gladly blow the man away… and looking at what was left of his teammate, the archeologist wasn't sure he'd have any objections. Teal'c and SG-3 quickly closed the gap behind their leader, ready for a conflict as eight of the aliens lined the other shore. Jack noted with interest that Lewen wasn't among them.

"She has committed a capital offense. She will be punished."

"Hasn't she been punished enough?" Daniel demanded, his voice thick.

"We're taking her," Jack announced. "If you try and stop us, I will personally take out each and every one of you. So before it comes to that, I suggest you take your mongrels and run along home."

The alien glared at him coldly. They had been geared to hunt and capture a wounded woman, not face a well-armed squadron. "We will return," the man warned, "and when we do, we will be better prepared."

"I look forward to it. Daniel!"

The younger man quickly adjusted his grip on his teammate's limp frame and carried her out of the water, lying her gently on the shore as the aliens disappeared back into the woods. "She's breathing," he said softly. "She's bleeding pretty bad, but I think she's mostly just exhausted. Sam? Sam, can you hear me?"

The moment his hand made contact with her face, she snapped awake, shoving his arm back and struggling to get away. Instinctively, Daniel reached out to stop her thrashing – to comfort her – but was stopped by a fist to the nose. He reared away from her with a yelp, clutching his bleeding nose as she rolled to her knees and prepared to run.

"Carter! Carter, knock it off!"

Sam froze on hands and knees at the familiar voice. Tears springing to her eyes, she looked up and saw for the first time in weeks the concerned, surprised face of her CO. Teal'c stood behind him, his face stoic as usual, but SG-3 was an unknown. They turned their backs to her in an impenetrable perimeter, fingers clutching their weapons a bit tighter, but while the action was for her own good, to help her reclaim at least a little of her dignity, it didn't seem that way to Sam – all she saw was four men who couldn't even look at her. Daniel dabbing at his bloody nose with a handkerchief was the last straw. With a sob, she sat back to the ground, pulling her knees to her chest and burying her face in her arms.

Jack fought with himself. He wanted so badly to hold her, comfort her, carry her away from this hellhole... but what she had done to Daniel indicated a state of mind that would never allow such a thing. Gone was his confident second in command, replaced by a skittish creature that seemed to react only by instinct. And that creature did not want to be touched.

Staring down at her, fear clenched around his heart like a vise. What if Daniel had been right? What if she wasn't the Sam Carter they'd left behind? He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to forgive himself for that. He'd have a hard enough time even if she _did _recover.

"Colonel." A hand on his shoulder broke his tunnel vision, and he glanced up to see Reynolds holding out his jacket. He tipped his head toward Carter. "Take it."

"I, uh.... Thanks." Jack opened the coat and draped it carefully over her shoulders. He couldn't ignore the way she cringed away from his touch, and the vise in his chest screwed a little tighter.

"SG-3 is gonna take scout," the other colonel said softly. "You won't see us, but we'll be around."

Jack merely nodded, unable to tear his eyes from the pale, thin ball on the ground.

"We need to get moving," Reynolds pressed. "They _will_ be back."

By the time Jack pulled himself together and turned around, SG-3 had disappeared into the trees. "Daniel?"

"I heard," he answered around the handkerchief. "It's just about stopped bleeding. I'm fine."

"Let's get moving, then." He started toward Carter to help her up, but stopped short when she scrambled to her bare feet on her own and headed toward the gate. She limped badly, one arm tight across her stomach, but moved resolutely forward. Jack turned to Teal'c with a sigh, then fell into step behind her.


	6. 3,1

**Part Three: Running**

_When angry, count to four. When very angry, swear.  
~Mark Twain_

"Unscheduled off world activation!"

General Hammond leapt to his feet and hurried to the control room. It was getting harder and harder to hold out hope, but maybe this time.... The circumstances of Major Carter's capture had left him ill, and, like the remaining members of his flagship team, he had hardly eaten or slept since.

"It's SG-1," Sergeant Harriman affirmed as he arrived. "Opening the iris."

"Get a medical team down here." The wormhole exploded into life, and Hammond found his heart beating faster at what might step through. But it was Doctor Jackson, and Doctor Jackson alone, and the look on his face and uncertainty in his voice sent chills through the older man.

"General. I know it's not really protocol, but, um… could we kinda clear the room?"

The younger man's anxiety was infectious. "Walthers, Culligan, Harriman, stay. Everybody else out," he ordered softly.

Once the room was down to two guards and only Walter and the general in the control room, Daniel touched his radio. "Okay, Jack."

Colonel O'Neill stepped through the gate next, and the general couldn't hold in a soft gasp. He carried Major Carter in his arms, and she looked like hell. A jacket that clearly didn't belong to her covered most of her skin, but what he could see – including far too much of her bare legs for his comfort – was bruised or bleeding.

"God," Hammond breathed, and one hand involuntarily touched the glass in front of him.

SG-3 followed Jack through the Gate, and Colonel Reynolds silently ushered his team out of the embarkation room. Teal'c came last, and he stood watch at the Gate long after the wormhole shut down.

"Sam!" The exclamation came from Janet Fraiser, who accompanied a stretcher and a medical team into the room. One of the nurses was a man, and Daniel gently pulled him aside as Jack set his 2IC gently onto the stretcher.

"Janet," Sam gasped, frantically wrapping her arms around her best friend's neck. All of SG-1 looked at her in surprise, and General Hammond surmised that those had been her first words since her rescue.

"Oh, sweetie," Janet comforted, gently rocking her friend as she would a small child. When her patient had calmed a bit, the doctor drew back and pulled a sheet carefully over her. "Let's get you to the infirmary, huh?"

Unlike every other time the general could think of, SG-1 did not follow her. Daniel sank onto the foot of the ramp and pulled off his helmet, dropping it to the floor before hiding his face in his hands. The helmet made a noise as it fell that startled Jack, and he picked up the offensive object and threw it against the nearest wall as hard as he could. "Dammit!"


	7. 3,2

The colonel couldn't stand still. They had been waiting in the infirmary for nearly an hour, and the rage was building in his gut, choking him. But worse than the rage was the fear that the Carter he had carried back to the SGC was not his Carter, and he was desperately afraid he might never get her back. The way she'd looked at him… It was like staring into the soul of a dead woman. He couldn't shake it.

"Son," General Hammond finally asked, interrupting his pacing, "What happened out there?"

Jack scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Dunno, sir. She had already escaped when we got there. We found her heading upriver toward the gate. She was barely conscious."

"We ran into a couple of Lewen's goons," Daniel put in from his spot, hunched in a chair. "But not him. She had a knife, and they said she'd committed a capital crime – I suspect he's not in good shape. If he's even alive."

The general took a moment to absorb that. When next he spoke, he hoped his tone conveyed his concern: not as her commander, but as her friend. "How did she seem?"

Daniel stared at the floor, and the colonel just shook his head.

"She is not well, General Hammond," Teal'c spoke up finally. "Physical contact from any male causes severe anxiety. Major Carter was badly injured, but she would not allow assistance until she could no longer walk."

Jack flinched at the memory. She had known she couldn't go any further on her own, but when he'd told her he'd have to carry her, tears had run down her face. She'd cried at the thought of him touching her, and he would never get that image out of his head.

"Colonel Reynolds deserves much praise for his actions," Teal'c continued. "SG-3 conducted themselves with the utmost concern and respect for Major Carter's condition."

It was rare for Teal'c to commend someone like that, and the general nodded. "I'll tell him."

Janet emerged from the door down the hall and came to join them. "I want to kill that son of a bitch," she said softly.

"It sounds like Major Carter already did," the general assured her.

"Good."

Daniel's head shot up. In all the years he'd known her, all the things she'd seen, he had never, ever heard her extol violence.

She pinched her nose, taking a deep breath before speaking again. "He was really brutal," she said finally, not meeting their eyes. "And she's… there's a lot of swelling. She's in a lot of pain. But physically, she'll recover. Mostly."

"Mostly?" Jack asked.

"Scar tissue can…" She shook her head. "I'm not sure this is something Sam would really want me to discuss with you, sir. But General, I do need to speak to you in my office."

"Janet," Daniel protested. "Come on, this is Sam. What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, Daniel. I can't."

Colonel O'Neill pushed himself off the wall and headed down the hall toward the observation rooms.

"Colonel," Janet called after him, bringing him to a halt. "She asked not to see anyone. Please."

He hung his head, tugging at his hair angrily, but he didn't go any further.

"She's gonna need time," Janet soothed, then gestured toward the door to her private sanctum. "General."

Jack was still standing by the door. "You gonna go anyway?" Daniel asked softly after they'd left, though he wasn't sure what answer he was hoping for.

"No. I'm gonna try my damndest not to make this worse than it already is."

~/~

Sam spent six days in isolation, interacting only with the female medical staff. Colonel O'Neill had gone to see her a thousand times, getting as far as the infirmary doors once or twice, but he'd never gone in. He didn't know how to help her, and it was killing him.

On day seven, she left the SGC, but SG-1 wasn't told until they were paged to Hammond's office later that afternoon. "Major Carter has decided to go see her brother," the general told them. "It might be good for her to get away from here for awhile."

"He barely knows her," Jack argued.

"Then maybe it will be good for them both." He took a deep breath. "Son, maybe it isn't the best idea. I don't know. I'm sure you can understand that – I don't know how best to help her. So it's difficult for me to refuse her something like this."

"She's running," Daniel said softly. "This is not good."

"Perhaps the absence of the SGC will aid in Major Carter's recovery," Teal'c suggested.

"Yeah," Jack said, not convinced. "Sometimes people need to run. And sometimes they run… hoping they'll be followed."

"How do we know which?" Daniel asked.

"We don't."


	8. 3,3

Colonel O'Neill had never thought he'd have Sam's brother on speed dial, but that had seemed fairly innocent. Digging up Mark Carter's number and adding it to his phone didn't mean he had to call. He tried eventually, of course, but it went to a disgustingly cheerful answering machine after the fourth ring. He hung up.

Four days later, he caught himself driving to her house instead of his own. Though he didn't know when she would get back, he figured he might as well stop in – having been through it himself, he knew that coming home to a fridge like a petri dish was no fun at all. And his ex-wife had always told him it was the little gestures that mattered… like clearing the mold out of the fridge.

He pulled up behind her car in the driveway – Janet, he figured, had taken her to the airport. Without saying anything to any of them. He liked the woman, generally, but this whole secretive tack she'd taken was not sitting well with him or the rest of SG-1. He couldn't help but feel that there was something huge they were missing – that Carter had grown another head or had her DNA screwed with or… or was dying.

He was good at finding worst-case scenarios. He always had been.

Killing the engine, he shuffled through his key ring and pulled out Carter's. He unlocked the door and stepped inside and stopped dead.

Her keys were on the table. Next to her purse. And her cell phone.

There was no way she'd have left town without those, no matter what shape she'd been in.

"Carter?" he called softly, starting a slow tour of her house. "Carter, it's me. I didn't know you were here." The front room showed no evidence of life, nor did the kitchen – no dishes on the counter, food undergoing a slow metamorphosis in the fridge. A blanket in the living room was pooled on the couch, not folded in its usual place, but that was hardly proof. "Carter… _are_ you here?" he asked, unsure.

He finally found her in her bedroom, curled in the fetal position. Aside from the fact that she was no longer covered in blood, she looked even worse than when he'd found her on that planet. She was deathly pale and thin, skin hanging off her tiny frame. And though she was pretending to sleep, the weight loss made it impossible to hide the tension in her muscles. What the hell had Janet been thinking, letting her out?

"I know you're awake," he said softly.

She didn't move.

"You lied to the general. To us."

Her face crumpled.

"We want to help you, Carter."

She shook her head. "Please, sir. I just want to be alone." Her soft voice was hoarse and thick from not speaking.

"You've been alone for days. It doesn't look to me like that's so much workin' for ya." He knew it was irrational, but he was a little angry – not at her, but at the running and the lies. They were supposed to be a team – and when it all hit the fan, they were supposed to depend on each other, and everyone – Doctor Fraiser, General Hammond, and apparently even Carter – seemed to have forgotten that. "When's the last time you ate something?"

She shook her head again.

"What does that mean, Carter?" The irritation seeped through that time, and he felt bad when she winced. He pushed it away and lowered his voice. "Come on, I'm gonna make you some dinner."

She didn't move, and he sighed. "Carter, that wasn't really a request. You have to eat. Get up."

When she still didn't move, he searched desperately for a new tactic. He couldn't – wouldn't – touch her; he feared it would only drive her further away, but he had to get her out of bed somehow. "I'll get you anything you want," he offered, "and you've gotta be hungry. What sounds good? Mexican? Italian? Ice cream?"

"Sir, stop, please," she moaned.

"I could go for some Rocky Road." As malnourished as she probably was, he figured calories of any sort would go a long way. "Or just chocolate. Plain chocolate, or with chocolate syrup, or –"

"Oh, God," she interrupted and sprang from the bed, one hand on her stomach and the other clamped firmly over her mouth. She rocketed past him and around the corner into the bathroom.

He stared after her for a second, then blew a slow breath out of the side of his mouth. "Crap." Grabbing the glass from her nightstand, he followed her as the toilet flushed. Sam was half-kneeling, half-lying in front of the fixture, her face flat against the cool tile of her tub, covered in sweat and shaking uncontrollably. He filled the glass with water and dampened a washcloth, then knelt silently next to her, and this time, she was too weak to even think about pulling away.

He gently wiped the sweat from her face and neck before helping her take a small sip of water. Once he was reasonably certain she wouldn't throw up again, he guided her to her feet and shakily back to bed, sitting against the headboard. The food, he supposed, could wait.

"You wanna talk about it?"

Miserable, she pulled her knees up to her chest and closed her eyes. "Please, sir," she whispered. "Just go away."

"Listen." Jack sat near the foot of the bed, giving her space but willing her to look at him. "I know… things suck right now, but it's gonna be okay." He wanted to kick himself. Why was he such an idiot? "It, um… I always feel lonely after… something like this. Like no one really gets it.

"I, uh, went to a seminar once on PTSD. The not sleeping, getting sick… you need to talk to someone, Carter. And I'm here. I mean, I've been through it, Carter. I understand."

"You have no idea," she muttered.

He stared at her for a moment, shocked. "Have you… Have you _met_ Baal? Or forgotten when I told you about the whole POW thing? What do you mean, I-"

"I'm pregnant."

The words came out of nowhere, and it took him a long, blessed moment before the meaning truly sunk in. Rage hit him like a wall, combining with disgust and pity to form a vicious cocktail in the pit of his stomach that made him want to vomit, too. He knew what had happened out there, but this – this was irrefutable proof of something he wanted desperately to ignore.

From the bed, Carter looked at him expectantly, concerned, but he didn't have an answer that he could put into words. Finally, he stood up and walked out.

Shocked, hurt, Sam fell to her side on the bed as the sobs began again, and she wept bitterly into the pillow. She had imagined a thousand reactions to those words, and he had just done what she'd feared the most. She was broken, dirty, damaged, and no one – no one – wanted her.

"Carter. Hey, Carter," Jack's voice soothed from the side of the bed. "Hey, stop that." He was still leery of touching her, but he needed her to look at him.

When she did, her red eyes showed surprise. "But I thought you –"

"What?" He couldn't stop himself this time, and one hand came up to push her damp hair back from her face. "You thought I left? Carter, I would never, ever leave you."

She pushed herself back up to sitting, and the colonel took a seat next to her. "But you…"

"I probably shoulda said something, huh?" But he didn't explain, and they sat stiffly next to each other, awkward as two teens on a first date. Seconds turned to minutes, then hours, and he just hoped that his presence was doing her some good, because he had no idea what to say to her.

"You took it better than I thought you would," she said finally. "Better than I did."

"Huh?" he glanced at her, but she was still avoiding his eyes, and he resorted back to staring at the opposite wall.

"The news."

"Oh." He bit his lip. "I'm trying not to think about it."

"Oh. Sorry."

"No, that's not… I mean… If I think too hard about… how – and why – I'm gonna march back through that gate and kill 'em all," he confessed. "So I'm just thinkin' about… what it is."

"I don't follow, sir."

He opened his mouth, not quite sure what to say, but a knock on the door came to his rescue. Unfortunately, Sam didn't feel the same way – her eyes immediately went wide again, and she drew her knees up a little tighter.

"It's not food," he promised.

"I don't want them here." She turned away from him, her cheek flat against the wall, and he quickly rounded the bed to look her in the face.

"I need you to trust me, okay? Can you do that? Please, Carter."

Her eyes slid closed, and she didn't answer.

"I'll be right back," he promised.

Tears silently escaped from her hollowed eyes and trailed down her face and neck. She _had_ trusted him, had finally let him in…and he'd called someone else. Violated her privacy. Wasn't she enough of a freak show already?

The nausea threatened again, and Sam stumbled back to the bathroom on weak legs, collapsing in front of the toilet and retching violently. She was surprised but too ill to react when strange but gentle hands pulled her hair away from her face and easily pinned it back.

"Wow," a female voice said softly, "You've got it bad."

Sweating, shaking, gulping for air, Carter pushed herself away from the toilet and looked up. She squinted through blurred vision to find Colonel O'Neill's ex-wife kneeling beside her. "Mrs. O'Neill?" she gasped.

"Call me Sara, please." She was older than Sam remembered, but her smile was just as kind. She took a coffee mug off the bathroom counter and handed it to the younger woman. "Drink this – it'll help."

Carter sniffed it and made a face, and Sara chuckled. "I know," she said. "It's vile, but it works. My mother used to make it for me."

Sam took a tentative sip and cringed, but she took another sip, then another and another until the mug was empty. Sara put the empty mug back on the counter. "Better?"

"I… yeah," Sam said softly. "Thanks."

"Good. Now this one." She handed her a glass of water, and Sam took it gratefully. "Small sips," she ordered. She reached past the younger woman as she drank and turned on the water in the tub. "And next is a nice warm bath. It does wonders."

Sara held out a hand with a gentle smile, and Sam accepted.

~/~

"You can stop pacing now."

Jack whirled around at the sound of his ex-wife's voice. "Sara."

"She'll be down in a minute. She's getting dressed."

"Sara…" He rubbed a hand across the hairs at the back of his neck, an action she knew signified deep anxiety. "I didn't know who else to call."

"How about her mother, Jack? That's what they're for," she insisted softly. "I know you said she was attacked, but surely her mom would want to be here, even if Major Carter doesn't want to tell her what happened."

Jack shook his head. "She's dead. And even if I could get in touch with him – which I can't – her father wouldn't be much help."

Sara sighed. "No husband, no parents… That would be rough on anybody. And she's not in good shape. She's very lucky she hasn't lost it, Jack. She should be in the hospital for this."

"I don't know if I'd say lucky. And she won't go. Besides, our CMO just released her."

Her mouth fell open a bit at that. "Clearly, they didn't take into account her state of mind."

"Yeah." That was a serious sore spot with him, and he _would_ be taking it up with ol' Doc Fraiser. "Clearly."

"You should have called me days ago."

"I didn't know it was this bad." He glanced over her shoulder and straightened. "Hey," he said softly.

"Hey," Sam mumbled back from the steps. Her hair was wet, and she wore big, scrubby clothes, but some of the color had returned to her cheeks.

"Major, do you feel up to some crackers? Toast?" the older woman asked gently.

"I am a little hungry," she confessed. "But I don't think I have any."

"I brought some," Sara told her easily. "Why don't you sit?"

Sam made her way slowly to the couch and sank onto it. She looked tiny, as though it could eat her, and Jack watched her from the doorway with concern. "Thank you," she told Sara as she took a plate of saltines and a cup of tea from the older woman. "I'm sorry he called you all the way out here."

"I'm not. You shouldn't go through this alone."

"I'm not-"

"Yeah, yeah, Jack," Sara said with a smile, casting a glance at her ex. "Jack has never felt morning sickness or swollen ankles or tiny kicks to the kidneys. It helps to have someone who's done it."

Sam stared at her hands. "I don't know if I can," she whispered.

In the corner, Jack tensed, and Sara shook her head at him, willing him to stay there. Added pressure was the last thing this girl needed. She put a wrinkled hand over Sam's smaller ones. "I think… that if you really wanted to end this, you'd have done it already."

Her head fell, eyes closed in shame. "I thought about it. I think I… wanted that."

"And that's okay. This was never your choice."

"But I can't. I can't do it. I..."

Sara slid off the couch to kneel in front of the younger woman. "Then things are pretty simple, huh? You're having a baby."

"But I don't… What if I can't…"

"Honey, there's not a woman in history who's thought she was ready for this. That's why you have nine months to get ready."

After a moment, Sam nodded.

"Good," Sara said. "Then we're agreed. So as of right now, you have to accept that there's a tiny life completely relying on you for its existence. So I'm going to make you some real food, and you're going to eat it. Right?"

"Right," she agreed softly.

Sara patted her hand as she pushed herself to her feet. As she passed Jack, she smiled at him, and for the first time in a long time, he thought everything just might be okay.


	9. 4,1

**Part Four: Contrition**

_We are masters of the unsaid words, but slaves of those we let slip out.  
~Winston Churchill_

Daniel fixed a tight smile on his face as Sam's front door swung open. Luckily it was Jack who answered, and the breath he'd been holding came out in a whoosh.

"Play it cool, Daniel," his best friend warned. "For Carter's sake."

"Indeed," Teal'c spoke up from behind him.

The archaeologist sucked in another breath and forced it to stay – he wasn't sure what that was supposed to accomplish, but it was about all he could manage, so he went with it. "Right. I'm good."

Neither teammate looked convinced, but Jack stepped aside to let them in. "Have a beer. She's in the living room."

Daniel clutched the drink like a lifeline as he slowly moved to where he could see his teammate. She was curled in her recliner, her back to them, shoulders moving slowly with the deep breaths of sleep.

"She's been napping off and on all day," the colonel spoke up. And he'd been there – one call to the general the night before to explain the situation had him on emergency leave 'until further notice.' It had also settled something he already knew but was pissed about anyway: yes, Janet and Hammond had known about the baby all along, and yes, they'd intentionally kept it from SG-1 at Carter's request. As far as he was concerned, that was complete and utter crap.

Taking a long swig of his beer for courage, Daniel examined her from the other side of the room, and he hated what he saw. Her shoulders were pure bone and several vertebrae were painfully obvious in the back of her neck. She barely even made a dent in the recliner. "She's so thin," he said softly.

"But still not deaf."

All three men started a bit at the soft voice before two sets of eyes bored into the sides of Daniel's head. "Mission failed," Jack grumbled wryly.

Sam rolled over with the tiniest of smiles. "There was a mission?"

"Indeed," Teal'c answered with a bow of his head. "Daniel Jackson was under orders to 'play it cool.'"

"I see." Her eyes shifted to Jack. "You know, it's not nice to give people orders they can't follow."

He shrugged. "A guy can hope."

Daniel, of course, was chicken, while Jack played it cool, leaning against the kitchen counter with his beer like he hadn't a care in the world.

Which gave Teal'c the perfect opportunity to approach his young teammate. Not wanting to loom over her, to invade her space, the large man knelt carefully beside her chair and spoke softly – in Teal'c terms, almost as though he was dealing with a small child. "Are you well, Major Carter?"

"Well, gee… I hurt all over, I'm constantly nauseous, and until last night, I hadn't eaten in four days. I'm great."

But the levity in her voice and the way her lips tugged up at the corners belied the gravity of her words, and Teal'c smiled back. "That is good to hear."

Daniel didn't take it that way, and the younger man quickly disappeared into the kitchen, a new beer already in hand. With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Jack followed.

"Teal'c…" Long, slender fingers closed around his dark ones. "I'm sorry."

"For what do you apologize?"

"I panicked, Teal'c," she breathed, so low he could barely hear her, and he knew she didn't wish her words to carry. "I was so scared of… what they'd think that I… I didn't think about you. And I should've known that you…" She trailed off, unwilling and unable to finish the thought.

"I have witnessed many atrocities in war," Teal'c acknowledged just as softly. "Be secure in the knowledge that nothing that might befall you will affect our friendship."

"I know. And I'm sorry I ran."

The Jaffa tenderly brushed a lock of hair away from her face before he answered. "I am sorry that I did not follow."

"Campers," Jack announced, sticking his head around the corner. "Pizza's here." But he didn't miss the look on Sam's face, and he continued, "If you're up for it."

A large, dark hand gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "She will try." And the way he said it, there was no doubt. It made her smile a little.

"Yes, Drill Sergeant."

~/~

Big blue eyes slid up to meet Colonel O'Neill's brown ones, then across to Teal'c's dark orbs before settling back on the half-eaten slice of pizza on her plate. "Are you guys gonna spend the next eight months watching me eat?"

Teal'c merely cocked his head. "Perhaps."

"Really? 'Cause it's a bit unnerving." She stuck out a slender finger and slowly slid the plate across the breakfast bar and away from her. From his place on the other side of the counter, Jack's hand mimicked the motion and gently but firmly pushed it back.

"Eat."

She wanted to glare at him, but she knew she looked too pathetic to pull it off. Instead, her smile was sickly sweet. "If I eat it now, I'll just lose it later." She moved it away again, and he knew he'd been beaten. Out of spite, he grabbed the remnant and took a massive bite. It didn't faze her – especially since it was the veggie half he'd gotten just for her. "You enjoy that, sir," she pressed as he made a face and forced a second bite. He had to chase it down with a few chugs of his beer.

For the life of her, now that she was back with her team, she didn't know what she'd been thinking. The last week and a half had been a self-imposed hell. Yes, Janet had helped, but she'd cut herself off from three quarters of her family. And without them – their humor, their distractions – she had dissolved into a puddle of misery and self-loathing. Every day had grown darker, and she had no idea what would have happened if the colonel hadn't found her.

Actually, if she were honest, she did. And it scared the hell out of her.

But why she'd shoved them away… She didn't really have an answer. They had dragged her out of the gloom before, after Jolinar, and yet… somehow, this had been so different. She'd even looked at herself differently – she'd practically scrubbed her own skin off in the first shower Janet had let her take – and she had been certain that they would feel the same.

She would be eternally, unfailingly grateful for the massive kick in the ass doled out by Colonel O'Neill. She should have known that their support would be unfailing. It always was.

But when she glanced over at Daniel and found he'd eaten no more than she had and already chased it with three beers, she knew he was having more trouble than the other two. "Daniel, matching me slice for slice isn't a good idea right now."

He didn't even smile. "I wasn't."

"Yeah? Then eat that."

"I'm not very hungry."

"Daniel."

The warning tone in Jack's voice was clear, though Sam didn't entirely understand it, but Daniel picked up the pizza. "Right." The next bite clearly wasn't pleasant, and he struggled to swallow it before taking a second.

The look on his face was stirring up bad feelings in her own rather delicate stomach, and she finally grabbed it out of his hand and put it down. "What is wrong with you?"

Six eyes bored into the top of his head as he stared resolutely down at the counter. Two of them, he knew, wanted him to speak up, and the other four desperately wanted him to keep his mouth shut. But he couldn't do it. "It's just really hard to eat on a guilty conscience," he muttered at the laminate.

"Guilty…" Her gaze moved like a ping pong ball between the other two. "Did something happen that I don't know about?"

But their eyes continued to burn into the younger man, and his next words were completely unexpected. "No, but a lot happened that we don't know about."

Sam felt like she'd swallowed a brick. She lost all coherent movement to the involuntary twitch of muscles as her brain left the kitchen behind and sent her straight back to the tiny chamber on that planet. There were hands and lips and breath and-

"Christ, Daniel."

The colonel's lethally low outburst ripped her back to the present, and she stumbled off the bar stool and away from them, grabbing Daniel's half-empty beer bottle off the counter as she went. It was almost to her lips before she realized she couldn't have it and pressed it against her forehead instead.

"I didn't mean it like that," Daniel stuttered. "I just – you never should have been there in the first place. What he did to you-"

Jack swore.

"It never should have happened. We went there because of me. This is all my fault. And I'm sorry, Sam. I'm so sorry."

The room was silent for an eternity before Sam squared her shoulders and turned to face him. "Listen to me, Daniel," she ground out, her voice low. "Listen, because I'm only going to say this once, and then you're never gonna mention it again. Things happen. Missions go bad. And it is _no one's _fault. So pull your head out of your ass, because I need you with me in the present."

After a moment, he gave her a shaky nod. "Okay. I'm-"

"_Don't_ say you're sorry," she hissed. Abruptly, she thrust the hand with the beer at them – she needed it out of her direct control before she did something with it – and Teal'c quickly took it from her. "Thank you," she said softly. "Now I'm gonna go throw up."

"You want me to make-"

She waved the colonel off, already halfway to the stairs. "It's not morning sickness, sir."

Both soldiers leveled annoyed gazes at the remaining scientist in the room, but it was Jack who spoke. "And they call you a genius."

~/~

It was well over an hour before Carter reappeared. Daniel had panicked, of course; if he were honest, Jack had, too – he was just quieter about it. But after sneaking upstairs and hearing the shower running, he'd let it go. As long as she was _doing_ something, he didn't particularly care what, even if it involved three or four full tanks of hot water.

"Teal'c took the drunkie home."

"Good." She blinked. "I didn't mean that how it sounded."

"Mean it any way you want to, Carter. You get a free pass." His shoes had long been discarded, and he sprawled across her couch with his head on a throw pillow. She perched in the recliner caddy corner to him so she wouldn't have to look him in the eye.

"Sir…"

"Yeah, Carter?"

"I didn't, um… I mean, I never…" She sucked in a deep breath. "I didn't file a mission report before I left. I just… will he…?"

With a sigh, Jack slowly rolled up to sitting and rested his elbows on his knees. "General Hammond isn't going to make you file anything. If you want to talk about it, we'll listen. Or we'll find somebody to listen. But if you don't, no one's gonna push you. Except maybe Daniel," he conceded. "But you have my permission to punch him in the face."

One side of her mouth turned up in a smile. "Actually, I have vague memories of doing that already."

The memory made Jack practically erupt in laughter – she had, in fact, punched him straight in the nose – and Sam reveled for a moment in the warmth of the sound. She hadn't heard good, honest laughter in over a month. "Well, I'm sure he deserved it anyway. For something. It was probably a long time coming."

She couldn't help but snicker a little at that.

"I mean, really, how many times have you wanted to punch me?"

"Uh… I can't answer that question, sir," she ducked, though she was definitely smiling.

"So… a lot."

"I plead the fifth."

"A lot. Admit it, Carter, I drive you nuts."

Considering that for a long moment, she finally lifted her head to meet his eyes. "In a good way," she admitted. And then, to stop that line of conversation even as his face lit up and his mouth flew open again, she said, "Sir?"

"Yeah?" Mischievous chocolate eyes widened a little bit as he caught the uncertain tone in her voice.

"Are you… gonna stay?"

"Yeah. Unless you don't want me to."

She shook her head. "Just… use the guest room, huh? Don't sleep on the couch again."

"But the couch is so comfy!"

A barely concealed snort of amusement and a roll of her big blue eyes were her only response before she pushed out of the chair and disappeared back up the steps.


	10. 5,1

**Part Five: Learning**

_Life is not a continuum of pleasant choices, but of inevitable problems that call for strength, determination, and hard work.  
~Indian Proverb_

"God, this stuff never gets better, does it? You'd think after drinking it so much I'd get used to it. A little." Sam looked at the concoction she held with disgust.

"At least it shouldn't last much longer, right?" Daniel soothed.

She looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "That's morning sickness, Daniel. I don't have morning sickness. I have morning, noon, and night shoot yourself in the head to make it stop sickness. And God only knows when that lets up."

Jack couldn't stop a small smile. The baby, in a way, had been good for Carter. Once she'd made the decision to carry it to term, it had given her something to focus on – a reason to take care of herself. She was eating and, well, trying to sleep, and while she still rigidly avoided any topic even close to what had happened to her, he figured they had at least a few months until the next crisis. In the meantime, life was almost back to normal. Almost.

"I have ordered our evening meal," Teal'c announced from the living room. "Daniel Jackson, perhaps you will accompany me." After his outburst that first night, they didn't leave the two junior members of the team alone together. Or even close to it. Settled as they'd gotten, they all still knew that Carter was simmering magma waiting for a reason to erupt.

"Yeah, sure." He grabbed his keys and started for the door.

"Ice cream," Sam called after them. "Forget the ice cream, and don't bother coming back."

Jack snorted with laughter. At least she wasn't combining it with pickles, like Sara had done. That was truly gross. Sam turned to look at him at the sound he'd made, and he took a moment to look her over – she had regained the lost weight over the last few weeks, and even this early, her face and chest were a little fuller. It was a nice look.

"What?" she asked.

He shrugged. "You look good."

"Not for long," she answered, but she was smiling.

"Yeah, well." He took a drag off his beer. "How ya feelin'? I haven't asked you that in awhile."

"Pretty good, sir," she answered, "Other than the crazy nausea, of course. And being grumpy as hell. This is…" She shook her head, unsure of what else to say. "Thank you."

"For what?"

She bit her lip. "I know you're upset that this… that you didn't get to me sooner. But when I really, really needed rescued, you found me," she told him. "Whether I wanted you to or not."

He shrugged, biting back an enormous grin as he mentally danced for joy. "It's my job."

~/~

Jack found Carter lying on the kitchen floor on her side, her head cushioned on her left arm. "Whatcha doin'?" he asked.

"What I was told to do when I get dizzy," she answered bitterly. "And on that subject, sir, I'm a little tired of everybody telling me what to do."

"Ah. Thanks for the warning on the mood swing."

"Sorry, sir." She clearly wasn't.

"How long have you been down there?"

"Just a few minutes."

"Ready to get up?"

"No."

"Okay." Jack grabbed a book off the counter and slid down beside her, perfectly content to join what he couldn't beat. He flipped the pages to week nine and began perusing. "So… Baby has fingers now."

She glanced up at him. "Really?"

"Yup. Bones are forming, too. Have you not read this yet?"

She shook her head a little. "Daniel got it for me. I figure whatever's gonna happen will happen whether I micro-analyze it or not."

The thought of Carter _not _wanting to know absolutely everything about a given subject was more than a little disturbing, but he kept his voice light. Whatever got her through. "Oh, I dunno – there's some interesting stuff in here. Like the fact that, for instance, you might get dizzy spells right about now."

Sam made a face. "Okay, I guess that might have been nice to know a little sooner."

"Sometime before you passed out in the lunch line?" he asked wryly. She had given the whole base – and especially Siler, who'd caught her– quite a scare. Jack turned the page, and of course, he couldn't leave well enough alone. "It says that your morning sickness can start to fade any day now."

"That would be great."

"And that as it does, your hormones might drive you a little crazy."

"They're already driving me crazy, sir."

"Oh, that's not the crazy I meant."

She blinked. "You're making that up."

The suggestive waggle of his eyebrows told her very clearly that he wasn't. "Feeling a bit horny, Carter?"

"In my current company, no, sir. Just nauseous."

"Ouch, Carter! Damn!" But she was grinning, and he knew she didn't mean it. "Ready to get up yet?"

"Yeah." He took her arm and slowly, gently pulled her to sitting, then to her feet. He kept a hand under her elbow as he moved her toward the couch, and she spotted the duffel bag in the living room for the first time. "Sir?"

"I'm staying here for a few nights, Carter. Until this blood pressure thing evens out."

She wrenched her arm out of his grip. Since the first few nights, she'd been just fine on her own. She was no invalid. "It's not a thing, sir. Janet said it could happen at any point in the pregnancy."

He shrugged. "So maybe more than a few."

"You're being ridiculous, sir."

"Am I?"

The bad mood was back with a vengeance, but at least the fire was back in her eyes. Jack would take feeling of any sort as a positive sign, hormones or not. "You're acting like this is something out of the ordinary. Janet said it's perfectly normal and there's nothing wrong!"

"Nothing wrong until you get dizzy on the stairs or fall and whack your head!" he argued, his voice rising to match hers.

"I do not need a babysitter," she growled.

"Maybe not, but if you want to talk normal, most pregnant women have one."

Even if he had a point, it hit a nerve. "Fine," she spat. "Do what you want. I'm going to bed."

"Have you eaten dinner?"

"No, and I don't intend to!" she yelled over her shoulder.

He watched until she disappeared up the stairs. "I'll just put my stuff in the guest room later, then, thanks," he muttered to himself, then headed to the kitchen to make her dinner.

~/~

A few nights turned into several weeks as Carter's dizzy spells got worse instead of better, and she was alternatively glad to see the colonel and pissed as hell when he got home. He tried not to take it personally – to that point, she hadn't gotten anywhere near as offensive as Sara had sometimes been. At least the morning sickness was starting to fade in the afternoon, and she was usually appreciative of dinner.

Staying with Carter was beginning to have its disadvantages, though. She had gained more than a cup size, he figured, and her chest was becoming incredibly distracting. She had yet to catch him looking, and he fully intended to keep it that way, but staring while she was asleep seemed unsporting, too. The book had claimed that Carter's hormones would be out of whack – no one had mentioned his.

"Morning, sir," Carter greeted, stepping into the kitchen. "What's for breakfast?"

"Omelettes."

"Sounds fantastic." She stretched languidly, and he took an appreciative eyeful while her eyes were closed.

"The guys should be here soon. You remember we deploy this afternoon, right?" SG-1 hadn't been off world overnight since they'd rescued Sam.

"Sara tells me that memory doesn't fade until after the baby's born, sir," she snarked.

"Oh. Right."

"You remember that I have an appointment today?" she challenged. "Janet said I should be able to hear the baby's heartbeat."

"Of course I do." He hadn't.

"Right. So I hope those omelettes will be done soon."

"Kickin' it into high gear as we speak," he muttered.

"I'm gonna go change, then." She turned to leave, and he watched her go, the hind view nice as always. She hit the doorway and turned back, catching him staring. "Oh, and sir?" she asked innocently.

"Hmm?" He cleared his throat, a bit anxious at being caught.

"Take a good look, sir," she said with a raised eyebrow. "If you get held up off world, this body may be long gone by the time you get back."

She executed a smart turn and left. Jack just stood there, speechless, until her voice floated back down the steps.

"Don't you burn my omelette!"


	11. 5,2

"You really don't have to drive all the way out here."

Sara handed Major Carter a cup of tea and settled in the easy chair across from her. "Jack asked me to keep an eye on you."

Sam chuckled, looking intently at her tea. "He worries too much."

"When Jack cares for someone, there's no such thing as too much."

"He's pretty protective of his team, yeah." Glancing up, she saw a pang of hurt in the woman's eyes and realized that what she meant was a little more personal. She wasn't talking about the team – just Sam. "I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago, Sam." She took a sip of her own tea and changed the subject.

~/~

"To our new friends!" the leader of the Charonans announced, getting to his feet and raising his glass for the... well, Jack had lost count, but there had been lots and lots and lots of toasts. "May our acquaintance bring lasting prosperity to us both!"

The three men of SG-1 raised their glasses along with everyone else, smiles plastered on their faces. Without moving his lips, Jack hissed, "How much longer, Daniel?"

"No way to know," Daniel answered, not as good at the ventriloquism act as his team leader.

"It's been three days." It had originally been a twenty-four-hour recon mission – until they discovered the massive amounts of naquadah in the town's construction.

"I know, Jack."

"I can only politic so much before my head explodes, you know."

The younger man sighed. "I know, Jack," he repeated a bit louder. "Just keep smiling."

They sat through four more toasts, faces frozen, Jack wishing the alcohol in their glasses was stronger. As had happened the previous two nights, dinner turned into dancing, and the tribe leader's daughter approached Jack. "Would you do me the honor, Colonel?"

"I… sure." He let the woman lead him around the dance floor a few times, making polite conversation, before he got to the point. "Melia, I mean this in the best possible way, but… how many more days is this festival thing?"

"All such celebrations last seven nights." She gave him a questioning smile. "Are we keeping you from something, Jack O'Neill?"

"I… well, yes."

"May I ask what? Or is it who?"

He couldn't stop the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. "There's a pregnant lady on my planet that I'd very much like to get back to."

She stopped abruptly and looked up at him, her face brightening. "You are expecting a child? How wonderful!"

"Well, I, uh… She's…"

"Soon?"

"No. It'll be months yet. I just don't like to leave her alone, you know?"

She nodded. "This is a blessed time for you. I'll speak to my father."

As the young woman hurried away, Jack felt marginally guilty for having deceived the woman, and yet… somehow, it didn't really feel like a lie.

~/~

Jack stepped through the front door to Carter's house to blissful silence. God, it was good to be home. That thought startled him – when had he started thinking of Carter's as home? But he swiftly hung his jacket over a chair and made a lap of the bottom floor, checking for his 2IC.

When he didn't find her, he headed up the stairs – she was most likely napping. He stuck his head through her bedroom door and stopped dead.

Carter was standing in front of her full-length mirror in just jeans and a bra, staring intently at her stomach. She skimmed her hands over the still-flat, muscled skin and let out a deep sigh. "Damn," she murmured softly, shaking her head.

"Probably a good thing you heard the heartbeat last week, huh?"

Startled, she spun to face him. "What?"

"Before you decided to do something rash to keep that figure?" Jack grinned as she remembered herself and reached for her shirt. "You did tell me to take a good look."

"I did," she admitted. "I was fully clothed at the time, but I did." She slipped the shirt over her head, and Jack frowned at the loss of the breasts that were slightly too big for the bra she wore. "I hope you took a mental snapshot, too, because I was serious. What if I never get back to this shape?"

The colonel smiled. "I'm not that concerned about it."

"I am!"

"Big is beautiful, Carter."

Her face fell, eyes wide. "You can't… I mean, you don't…"

He hadn't meant to shock her that badly, and he stepped up with a smile, gently taking her face in his hands. "I was kidding." He really needed to get used to the mood swings – good old predictable Carter was getting harder and harder to find.

She punched him in the stomach, and he stepped back with a grunt. "It wasn't funny!" she protested.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" he wheezed. "Hey – I brought you something." He pulled out a leather necklace with a large turquoise pendant on the end. A smaller stone hung below it.

Her anger and worry forgotten, she took it with a smile. "What's this for?"

"Nothing," he answered. "I just thought it would look great between those two watermelons you're growing."

Before she could throw something at him, he ducked out of the room and ran down the steps.


	12. 6,1

**Part Six: The Choice**

_To live is to choose. But to choose well, you must know who you are and what you stand for, where you want to go and why you want to get there.  
~Kofi Annan_

General Hammond was trying to limit the amount of time the rest of SG-1 spent off world, and Sam was grateful for it. Her time at the SGC during the day helped, but the evenings were lonely and left her with nothing to do but think, and thinking was not a good thing. Sara's visits, though infrequent, helped.

Between work and Cassie, Janet claimed to be too busy to come over much, but Sam wasn't sure she believed it. Things between the two of them had been tense – the colonel had made it pretty clear that he thought she'd made a mistake releasing Sam from the infirmary, and his dress-down had gotten so bad, according to Teal'c, that the general had been called in to stop him. Janet had been keeping a wide berth both in and outside the mountain ever since. And while Sam wished the colonel hadn't taken it so far, she had to take some blame in the matter. She'd lied to the woman who was both her doctor and best friend – the fact that Janet had believed the lies wasn't entirely her own fault.

When SG-1 was on Earth, though, she rarely had time to shower, much less think. It helped her forget the massive changes that were coming – and took her mind off the ones that were already happening.

"Pasta or lasagna?" Daniel asked, offering her a plate of each.

"Um… lasagna," she chose, and he handed her the plate. She headed for the couch to join Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c, but stopped midway across the room with a gasp, her hand flying to her stomach.

Jack was immediately on his feet, taking the plate and supporting her with his free hand. "Are you okay?"

She took a few short breaths, her eyes wide. "I think… I think it moved," she whispered.

"Really?" Daniel asked, his eyes gleaming.

His excitement was contagious, and Sam grinned. "I… wow." She met Jack's eyes, and an easy smile spread across his features. "You know, Janet says it can blink now."

"Yeah," the colonel answered softly. He led her to the couch and started to hand her plate back, but stopped when her breath hitched again. He knelt in front of her, and when he looked into her eyes, they were damp with held-back tears. "Carter?" He touched her cheek gently. "Good tears?"

"I don't know," she mumbled. "I'm not ready."

"You don't have to be yet. It's okay."

"That's what you have us for, Sam," Daniel soothed.

"Indeed," Teal'c added.

"It's not fair. You guys have done this before," she protested.

"Exactly. And we're here for you," Jack told her. "We're gonna get through this together."

"Colonel, if I…" Her teeth found her lip in the way they always did when she wanted to say something and knew it wouldn't go over well. Nonetheless, he wanted to hear it – as far as he was concerned, SG-1 had kept enough secrets already to last the whole nine months. And then some.

"Go ahead," he coaxed.

"Never mind."

Sensing her unease, Daniel changed the subject. "So… have you thought about what you want to do with the guest room? I mean, it's great now, but tan doesn't really scream nursery."

Her eyes, when she looked at him, were panicked. "I, um… no."

"Perhaps Major Carter wishes to first know the gender of her child. Is it not culturally appropriate to paint the room accordingly?" Teal'c asked.

"That's a point," the archaeologist conceded. "What about names? Thought about those?"

"I've always been partial to Jack," the colonel put in with a smile.

"Or George," Daniel added just as jovially, but Sam's head was down, her shoulders slumped. "Sam?"

She shook her head and pushed herself off the couch, heading for the stairs. Daniel caught her arms gently. "Hey… talk to me."

"This is really easy for you, isn't it?" When she glanced up at him, her eyes were once again filled with tears. "All of you. Ooh, a baby! Fun!" She bit her lip. "Have you even considered what this means for me?"

Jack had, and he avoided her eyes.

"What do you think I'm gonna do, Daniel? Find some twenty-four hour child care and leave it there while I go tromping around the universe? Or am I supposed to give it all up and stay home for a baby I never asked for?"

"I don't… I didn't think about that."

"I've done nothing _but_ think about that, Daniel. So I don't wanna hear it – the names, the nursery, the baby crap. Just… don't." She pulled out of his grasp and stormed up the steps.

Daniel gawked after her for a moment, kicking himself that he'd been so blind. It had never occurred to him that she might give the baby up, and as he turned around to see the faces of his teammates, he realized he hadn't been the only one.


	13. 6,2

Colonel O'Neill drove up to Carter's house late – SG-1 had been off world that day, and the infirmary was busy treating the aftermath of one of SG-6's adventures, so the team had waited hours for their post physicals. She was asleep in her "chair and a half" – something between an arm chair and a loveseat – when he got there, her head resting on one arm and her calves on the other.

He moved to the kitchen and quickly stuck the Chinese he'd grabbed in the fridge, but the floor creaked a little bit, and he knew she'd woken up.

"Sir?" she called.

"Yeah, Carter. Just a second." He pulled dinner back out of the fridge and stuck it quickly on two plates and took it to her. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired. She won't calm down," she said sleepily.

"She?" Jack asked. He handed her a plate, but she didn't sit up.

"Yeah – Janet got the amnio back. It's a girl." A small, vague smile crossed her face, and she started to gather a forkful of steamed rice.

"Is something else wrong?"

She shook her head. "I was just on my feet in the lab all day, that's all."

"They hurt?"

"I was hoping putting them up would help. Is it gonna be like this from now on?"

"Pretty much." He set his plate down and left for a second, returning with a chair from the dining room. He sat it under Sam's extended legs and gently took an ankle in his hands.

"Sir, you don't-"

"Shut up, Carter," he said softly, kneading and working the muscles in her ankles and feet. When he finished, her eyes were closed, her face serene, but it didn't last long. Pain flashed across her face as a hand flew to her slightly rounded belly.

"Ouch."

"I'm sorry, Carter."

His voice was hushed, solemn, and she rolled her head to glance at him. "For what, sir?" He just shook his head, and she pushed herself up to sitting. "Something's been bothering you for a while now, sir. Something that wasn't before. What's going on?"

"I just don't like to see you in pain," he lied. "You know that." He didn't think it was that obvious, but he was trying to distance himself from the baby before he ended up sorely disappointed. "You should eat."

Concerned, she leaned toward him. "Sir?"

"Don't push it, Carter," he answered with a sad smile.

"Did something happen off world?"

"No."

"Sir, please."

He scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Carter, I'm… I'm trying really hard to stay neutral here," he said. "I want you to do what's best for you."

"What does that mean, neutral?"

She made a face and put a hand to her stomach again, and he sighed. Every inch of him wanted to reach out and touch her, to feel the baby under his fingertips. He was falling for the little one, badly, and he needed to stop it. Losing one child was more than enough for a lifetime.

"It means… I should go, Carter." He stood and backed away a little, and she was immediately on her feet.

"What?"

"If you want, I'll call Daniel," he said, already heading for the door.

"No, I – I don't… I don't understand!" she cried.

"I'm sorry," he said again, and he pulled the door neatly shut behind him.


	14. 6,3

Jack had been expecting the knock at his door for days when it finally came, but the last person he expected stood behind the door.

"Okay, lecture away," he said.

Janet Fraiser shook her head, looking distinctly uneasy – while their relationship was slowly repairing itself (silently), they both remembered well the dress-down that had gotten them there. And the reason for it. "No lecture. Can I come in?"

He stepped aside to let her pass. "Beer?"

"No, thanks. I've had my fair share of liquid courage today." She perched on the arm of the sofa, and he took a seat across from her. "You know, this is not the life I was supposed to have," she began.

"I think we could all say that," Jack answered.

She shook her head. "That's not what I mean. See, I graduated high school with the love of my life, and we got married that summer."

The colonel looked at her in surprise. She'd been married?

"I got pregnant at nineteen, and I went into pre-term labor at twenty-two weeks – right about where Sam is now. And it's way too early, and the baby didn't make it."

"I'm sorry," Jack said, and he meant it.

"I got really depressed," Janet continued. "And it was really hard on Tom, too, and I wasn't really fair to him. But the stress was too much, and we split. I've lost a lot of things, and seen a lot of things, but losing a child… that pain is unique. And sharp. And it never goes away."

Jack took a long drag of his beer, well aware of what that felt like. And he knew she knew his history.

"It's amazing how attached we were to that… tiny little thing that we had never even seen," she said. "The first time Tom felt him kick, he cried. I'd never seen my husband cry, but he was a goner."

She looked up and held his eyes. "She doesn't understand, Colonel. She's a victim, and part of her still wants this baby to just… disappear. She's still a little emotionally turned off from everything she went through. And we both know that her world is gonna change the first moment she holds that little girl in her arms."

The colonel sighed. "She never has to," he said.

Janet nodded, her suspicious finally confirmed. "No, she doesn't. But she will. I'll make sure of it."

Jack pushed himself to his feet. "And what if that isn't what's best for Carter? She's your friend. She has to be your first priority."

"I think Sam would regret giving her up. Not right away, maybe, but eventually. I think it is what's best."

"I think she has to come to that decision on her own," he argued.

"Did it occur to you that you up and walking away could change that decision for the worse?"

His eyes shot over to hers, and she knew it hadn't.

"The only reason she didn't starve herself to death was you," she pressed. "You've held her together through all of it. Her faith in you is absolute."

"Yeah, well, there's no accounting for taste," Jack muttered.

"Colonel, listen to me. She honestly believes that SG-1 can do anything – overcome any odds. But if you're not there for her to lean on, she will panic. And she will give that little girl up."

He tugged at his hair. "That's a crappy cycle."

"She has an ultrasound tomorrow. You should be there."

"I can't go through that again," he confessed softly.

"She needs you," Janet pressed. And Jack hated that she was right.

~/~

"Something wrong, Janet?" Sam watched her friend absently fiddle with the ultrasound machine.

"No," the doctor told her. "I was just thinking about something else."

"What?"

Janet looked around the empty room and sighed. "Nothing. You ready? This will be a little cold."

"Yeah, sure." Sam shivered a little as the gel hit her exposed stomach and looked over at the monitor. "Okay, maybe I'm not ready," she confessed. "I'm not sure I can see this."

The older woman sighed and perched on the edge of the bed. The last ultrasound they'd done had been very early, and her friend knew that this time it would look like a real baby. "Sam, see it or not, you know it's there."

"I think I made the wrong decision, Janet. I never should've let it go this long. I can't… God, what have I gotten myself into?"

Janet sucked in a breath. This was very, very bad. She didn't think her friend would do it, but legally she still had two weeks… "It's gonna be okay, Sam," she soothed, but her friend just shook her head.

"I should've let him kill me," she whispered, her face in her hands.

The doctor's eyes slid shut. What was she supposed to say to that?

Someone tapped gently on the door, and Colonel O'Neill stepped into the room. "Hey," he said softly.

Sam's head flew up in surprise – she hadn't seen him in over a week. "Hey," she answered, her voice shaky.

"How are my girls, Doc?" He asked the question flippantly, but Janet could tell he didn't mean it that way.

"I don't know. I was just about to check," she said, smiling. She stood, and Jack took her spot on the side of the bed.

"Cool."

"Ready?"

Sam slid her hand over to her CO's and gripped it tightly. "Yeah."


	15. 7,1

**Part Seven: Closer**

_If you limit your choices only to what seems possible or reasonable, you disconnect yourself from what you truly want, and all that is left is compromise.  
~Robert Fritz_

Sam waddled down the stairs and moved blindly through the hallway toward the kitchen, her eyes still half-lidded. "I smell food," she grumbled.

"Sleeping Beauty awakes," Daniel answered with a smile.

She shot him a look that said she was clearly _not_ amused, and Daniel glanced beseechingly at Jack, who shrugged. "Don't look at me. I can't bail you out."

"Want food," Sam complained grumpily.

"Uh… it's gonna be another ten minutes or so," Daniel told her, and Jack just shook his head. Daniel knew nothing about pregnant women. "Um… you want some… crackers?"

She glared at him.

"Ice cream? Coffee? Chocolate?" The death glare just grew in intensity, and Daniel finally relented. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Oh, now you did it," Jack warned.

"Okay? Am I feeling… okay?" she asked incredulously. "In seven months, I'm twenty pounds over my normal weight. I'm the size of a small house. I am not okay."

"I didn't… I mean, um… Jack, for the love of God, help me."

Sam took a threatening step toward the younger man as Jack got to his feet. "You stick a soccer ball full of sand in your stomach and tell me how _you_ feel," she complained. The colonel stepped up behind her, and she tried to turn around, but he evaded her. "What are you doing?" she snipped. "Stop that."

Grinning, he wrapped his arms around her and, netting his fingers together beneath her distended stomach, lifted.

"Oh, God." Sam's eyes rolled back in pleasure as the extra weight disappeared from her joints, and she let her head drop against Jack's shoulder. "That's amazing."

Daniel shook his head as Jack's grin grew ear-to-ear. "I don't believe it," he muttered.

"Hmm?" she mumbled, though she wasn't sure she cared.

"Daniel and I had a little bet," her CO said softly in her ear, and she could practically hear the smile. "I just won. Big time."

That caught her interest. "What was the bet?"

Jack's hands started to relax, but she touched his arm to keep it there. "Ah, well…"

Daniel stared at the floor.

"Oh, now I really want to know," she insisted, reveling in the lightness and warmth of the body behind her.

"Jack told me that, um…" He cleared his throat, uncomfortable. "That he could drive any woman to distraction just with his hands. You were my one holdout."

Her eyes widened a bit, and she craned her neck to look at him. "Wait… who are you going around touching to prove this, exactly?"

"It's a long-standing thing," he muttered, but his cheeks flushed a bit, and she grinned.

The timer on the stove went off, and Daniel jumped a little at the obnoxious noise. "Just a couple of minutes, Sam," he promised, grabbing for some oven mitts.

"I suppose I should grab some plates," Jack said softly, and for a second Sam thought she detected a note of sadness in his voice. His hands relaxed, and she let out a disappointed groan as he stepped away and the weight settled back on her hips.

More than anything, she wanted that contact back – the touch had been so warm, so intimate. It was unlike anything they'd allowed themselves in the last several years, and she had missed it. As she watched him move around her kitchen with ease, she let her mind wander to a million things that could be.

"Carter? You want milk, right?"

His eyes met hers and yanked her back to the present. "Yeah. Thanks."


	16. 7,2

Lunch really wasn't sitting well. Of course, the fact that lunch was sitting on top of a baby who wanted nothing more than to play soccer in Carter's belly wasn't helping. Sam put both hands on her enormous stomach and pressed a little, earning a few vicious kicks in return.

"Little Bit," she groaned, "you've gotta stop this. Momma's sleepy."

But the baby didn't listen, and Sam sunk further back into the recliner, desperately seeking comfort of any sort. She wanted – and it bothered her to even think it – she wanted the colonel. He seemed to have some sway with the overly-athletic creature in her gut that she just couldn't pull.

The creak of the door made her sigh almost audibly in relief. "Hey, sir."

"Hey. How ya feelin'?"

"Oh, you know. Gymnastics day," she grumbled.

His grin spread from the doorway to fill the room. "I had quite the day, too. You'll never guess who followed me home."

"Oh, yeah?" She cracked her eyes open just in time to see Jacob Carter appear over her CO's shoulder. "Dad!"

"No, no, don't get up," he insisted, hurrying to crouch beside the recliner. "Oh, Sammie."

His eyes were a mixture of relief and pain, and she opened her arms for a hug. "It's okay, Dad."

"I should have been here sooner. I didn't know." Large, gentle hands surrounded her belly in amazement. "How long?"

"Seven months. Almost eight."

"I'm so sorry, Sam."

She caught his chin and smiled. "It's over, Dad."

"But it's not. You have to live with it every day. I don't know if I could do that."

"She doesn't have a whole lot of choice, Jacob." Jack set a folding chair next to the recliner for the older man and hoped he'd take the hint – the rape was not something they dwelt upon. It was history.

"Right. Sorry."

Sam laughed. "Please quit apologizing."

"Sweetie, I just… I don't know if I'm thrilled or devastated, you know? My baby's having a baby, but…"

"I know."

"George said they've cut your hours. Are you okay? I mean-"

"I'm fine. Janet's had me on partial bed rest for… almost all of this, so I don't really work full days. They're calling me high-risk, but I think she's being a little overprotective," Sam added conspiratorially.

"Then again, she wasn't exactly in the best shape to get pregnant," Jack put in. "And it's hard on the body, doin' that."

Sam rolled her eyes at him.

"They'd better be taking good care of you," Jacob threatened softly.

"They are, Dad. Sometimes _too_ good. Someone's with me almost all the time." She neglected to mention that Jack was camping out in her guest room; she wasn't sure how her father would take that. "I don't cook or clean; I always have the remote and my laptop within reach; I never, ever have to worry about dinner. What's dinner, by the way?"

"Italian," Jack supplied easily, and the older man laughed.

"Tasty, sir. Could it wait two hours or so? I'm not feeling the greatest."

Jacob watched with interest as the colonel quickly surveyed his daughter – taking a risk assessment, like any good soldier. "Heartburn, or something else?"

"I'm a little nauseous. Little Bit's been swimming laps all afternoon."

"Headache at all?"

She shook her head, apparently used to the drill.

"Let me see your hands." He inspected them quickly and let the subject drop. "I'll call the guys and ask them to hold off."

"Thank you, sir."

Jack had barely cleared the door when Jacob asked, "What was that all about?"

"Oh, they're watching my blood pressure. It was too low, and I kept fainting, and now it's climbing, and they're keeping an eye. It's not high enough for concern, just… vigilance."

"Well, that's… good." Her father looked worried anyway.

"Don't worry, Daddy. People have been doing this for thousands of years, right?"


	17. 7,3

The last time Jack had caught his 2IC staring at the mirror, her stomach had still been flat. This time, her shirt was gathered at the top of her massive bump, and her hands moved gently over it as she stared. And while Jack was pretty up on Carter's expressions, that one was impossible to read.

"Y'know, Carter, I never would've described you as vain," he spoke up, his voice light.

A tiny smile crossed her face, but she didn't stop what she was doing. "Yeah, well. Deep down, you know. But really, it's the physics of this that blow my mind."

Only Carter. "How so?"

"My entire center of gravity has changed. And on top of that, my ligaments are looser, so I just feel unsteady all the time – like I'm about to topple over. And of course, there's the fact that this little girl is _never_ a static load," she added, pointing to her stomach.

"Well, sounds like you're in the home stretch, Carter." And it made him glad to be back with her – quietly vacating the guest room during her dad's visit had been the right thing to do, but staying away had been hard. He worried about her.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah – the final phase. Big, awkward, uncomfortable."

This time, the smile won out and she turned to face him. "Yup, that's me! Oof!" she sighed, one hand flying to the top of her stomach.

"Baby likes sports," Jack put in.

"I wonder if I can turn my backyard into a kickball field," Sam mused. "She'd win every game." Another, smaller pain in her back made her scowl. "Or boxing, maybe. Hey, Little Bit – not the kidneys!"

Grinning, he moved further into the room and perched on the edge of the bed, putting himself even with the baby – well, with Carter's ample chest, really, but close enough. "You in there," he ordered. "You calm down."

The warmth of his hands, the way they so easily spanned her stomach, always brought a smile to Sam's face, but this was the first time he'd touched her bare skin. Her fingers itched to run through his hair as he leaned close, having his own private conversation with the child she carried.

Another kick landed square under his hand, and his eyes flew wide. "Well, tell me how you _really_ feel about it," he teased, and Sam chuckled.

"She likes you, sir."

"Crazy kids." His thumbs softly, absently caressed her skin, and Sam sighed at the feeling. It drew his attention. "You okay?"

"Would you stop asking me that?" she answered with a smile.

He shook his head. "It's my job. I'm gonna go start dinner, okay?"

Reluctantly, she took a step back as his hands fell away. "Yeah, sounds good."

One glance back as he hit the doorway found her staring back into the mirror again, her lips pursed in distaste as she stared at her new body. He knew she'd been struggling with the loss of her perfect figure for quite a while. "Carter," he said softly.

"Sir?"

"I don't think you quite understand the power of… _that_," he said, motioning more than a little uncomfortably toward her stomach.

"I don't know what you mean, sir."

"Of course you don't." He sighed. "I'm just sayin'… women and men see these things differently, that's all."

The blank expression didn't change, and she shook her head a little.

"Fine." Subtlety was clearly not going to work. "It's hot, okay?" In fact, if it were his kid, he'd… Oh, that thought was dangerous, and he pushed it aside. For the moment.

Her lips parted slightly in surprise. "Really?"

"Oh, yeah. Super hot." And before he could embarrass himself further, he closed the door behind him.


	18. 7,4

Daniel stuck his ear against Sam's door. No TV, no radio, no sound at all. When his soft knock got no answer, he stepped quietly into her room, unsurprised to find her in bed – on her left side, as Janet was always requesting. He didn't know what difference that could possibly make, but it was apparently a huge deal.

Circling the bed, he knelt beside his friend and gently touched her cheek to rouse her. "Hey."

He got an incoherent mumble in response, but her eyes flickered open to look at him.

"You feeling okay? Just tired?"

"Yeah," she mumbled. "Back hurts."

He gave her a sad smile. "This can't be easy on you, can it?" Fatigue and discomfort had been her constant companions.

"It's not too bad."

"We brought dinner. Are you hungry at all?"

She blinked. "Starving. But I don't wanna move."

"Well, that's okay." The smile turned into a full-fledged grin. "I'll be back."

Within five minutes, the guys had found a tray to set her food on and two folding chairs. After propping her up with pillows so she could eat, Jack took a seat on the edge of the bed and the other two sat facing her to eat their own food.

She could never express how much moments like that warmed her heart.

The dinner conversation was filled with small talk about the base, including the betting pool on the date and time of Baby Carter's arrival. But before Sam was even halfway done, her lower back contracted painfully and she squared her shoulders against the sensation with a moan.

"I believe this child is very near ready to be born," Teal'c said with a smile.

"God, I hope so. Any day now. You hear that, Little Bit? Any day now," Sam groaned.

"You're not due for four more weeks, Carter."

"Shut up, sir."

"You know," Daniel put in, "if you listen to the old wives' tales, there are any number of things that could help this along a little. Warm baths, certain herbal teas…"

"Women on Chulak often used such methods," Teal'c advised.

"Yeah? What was their number one trick, Teal'c?"

The Jaffa turned calmly to Daniel. "Intercourse."

Sam's face slowly turned and smacked flat into her pillow in embarrassment. The cotton muffled her groan. "Nope. Nope, I'm good. I'll wait."

"Aww, come on, Carter. Where's that can-do spirit?" Jack teased.

"It left fifteen pounds ago. Besides, who wants to have sex with a C-130?" she grumbled.

The three men glanced at each other – this had become something of a recurring problem. "Sam, you're looking at this completely wrong," Daniel answered. "Throughout history, fertility goddesses have almost always been portrayed as extremely pregnant. And in most religions before modern times, those goddesses were considered the most important deities in the culture. Sam, in most societies, a woman with child is the epitome of sexy."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm not kidding! I swear!"

"Indeed," Teal'c added. "There are many phrases in Goa'uld dedicated to the beauty of a woman during this time."

When she glanced at Colonel O'Neill, he was grinning. "See? I told you."


	19. 7,5

"So, when you're in tomorrow, you should talk to Janet, Sam," Daniel said eagerly through a bite of lasagna. "The people on P4X-992 were purple."

She raised an eyebrow. "Purple?"

"Yup, purple," Jack put in.

"But human?"

"Purple humans."

Sam glanced sideways at her CO. "That must have been… amusing."

"I kept a straight face, Carter. You'd have been proud."

"I would have, sir." She couldn't help it; she let out a chuckle as she pushed awkwardly to her feet.

"Whoa, what do you need?" Jack put a hand on her arm to stop her, but she stepped away.

"I'm just getting more water, sir. I'm fine." She waddled uncomfortably toward the kitchen and pressed the water glass to the dispenser on the fridge, then stodgily moved back toward the dining room.

Suddenly, the room shifted beneath her, the water glass slipping from her hand and shattering as she put an arm out to the wall to steady herself.

"Carter?" The colonel was already rising to his feet, alarm on his face. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," she said softly. "Something… isn't right. Ah!" Sam's face contorted in pain, and she pressed a hand against her head, pulling at her hair. "Oh, God."

"Daniel, get the truck. Now!" Jack was immediately at her side, one arm supporting her while the other tilted her chin up. "Carter, exploding pain?"

"Uh-huh."

"Blurry vision?"

"Whass… happ'ning?" she slurred.

He grabbed her arm and held it out, looking at her swollen wrist and fingers. How had he missed that? "Aw, crap. Teal'c, get her other side."

The Jaffa quickly wrapped Sam's other arm around his neck and helped Jack haul her toward the door. "Sir?" she asked weakly.

"You're pre-eclamptic, Carter. You're gonna be okay."

"No… too soon…"

Jack crawled into the back of the truck and helped pull his second into his lap. Her head lolled onto his shoulder. "Gun it, Daniel. The next step in this process is not a good one."


	20. 8,1

**Part Eight: Change**

_Some choices we live not only once but a thousand times over, remembering them for the rest of our lives.  
~Richard Bach_

Everything was fuzzy. Even the black felt… fuzzy. Opening her eyes didn't help – the black disappeared, but was simply replaced by lighter shades of fuzziness. Her headache was monumental.

"Carter."

Sam's eyes shifted toward the gentle voice, and she blinked hard a few times to bring Colonel O'Neill's face into focus. "Jack," she mumbled. She might have been drugged and half-conscious, but that was nice to hear.

"Hey."

"Wha… happened?"

"Your blood pressure spiked. Bad. But you're okay now."

She gave a soft moan of understanding, her hand automatically moving to the ever-present ache in her belly. But the mountain she expected there was much smaller than she remembered, and her eyes flew wide.

"Easy," Jack soothed quickly, his hands on her shoulders to keep her from ripping her stitches. "Carter-"

"Oh, God, the baby-"

"Is fine. The baby is fine." A small smile crossed his lips, and he didn't move back. "She's beautiful."

"I don't understand. I don't remember…"

"I know. You developed pre-eclampsia, and they had to do an emergency cesarean. You passed out on the way to the hospital."

He could see the wheels turning in her head as she tried to shake off the confusion. But there was one thing she hadn't asked, and his heart pounded as he dared bring it up. "Carter… do you want to see her?"

She looked at him in surprise, as though it hadn't occurred to her at all. "Can I?"

"Of course you can," he chuckled. "She's yours." Pushing himself back, he crossed the room and carefully lifted the tiny newborn from the hospital bassinet. He laid the tiny bundle next to Sam's head, where she could see without moving. "She looks just like her mother."

He didn't mention how very glad he was for that. He watched her carefully as she took in the tiny red fingers and feet with an expression he couldn't quite place

"How ya feelin'?" he prodded finally, his voice no more than a whisper. This was the moment that would decide... everything.

Her eyes never left the infant. "Terrified." But a small smile tugged at her lips, and she awkwardly twisted an arm to touch the child. "Hello, little one," she murmured, her voice shaking.

As Jack watched, her smile grew until it was infectious, and he returned it, reaching up to touch Sam's cheek. Her eyes found his. "You did good, Sam," he breathed.

"Is it wrong that I think she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen?" she asked just as softly.

Jack shook his head, relief spreading through his chest in a warm surge. "Not at all."


	21. 8,2

It was really much easier to get the baby seat into the back of Daniel's SUV than into the colonel's truck, so Daniel won the prize of escorting Sam and new baby Aimee ('beloved', Sam had said, was perfect – she was being born into an enormous family) home from the hospital.

Jack and Teal'c, of course, weren't about to be left out of the party, and his passenger grinned when she saw the massive, tacky sign in her front yard announcing 'It's a Girl!' to the world with the two men flanking it. They quickly stepped up as the SUV hit the driveway – Teal'c grabbed Sam's things, Daniel grabbed Sam's new, fragile cargo, and Jack grabbed… Sam. Gingerly. They had been lectured over and over again that their companion had undergone major surgery, that she wasn't to lift anything heavier than Aimee, and that they were to take it very, very easy on her.

Daniel, of course, had told the doctor that spoiling Sam was something they had all gotten very good at over the last nine months.

The target of their coddling, of course, resisted, but it was more on principle than anything else. She was as aware that she needed their help as they were. And when she took the first step up toward the porch with her normal ease only to have pain shoot through her torso like lightning, she groaned. Invalid status sucked.

"They told you stairs might be rough," Jack reminded her softly.

"They weren't kidding." Suddenly, the next four steps looked much more daunting.

"You want a pillow?"

She scowled at him. "I will be damned if I'm going to walk into my house hugging a freakin' pillow. I still have my dignity, sir."

"All right, then. You know the drill."

He couldn't be serious. But the intense, humor-filled look in his warm chocolate eyes told a different story, and she wrapped her arms around his neck with an audible sigh. Dipping down a bit, he tucked a strong arm beneath her knees and easily lifted her off her feet.

"Better than hugging a pillow?"

"Only marginally," she groaned.

"Well, settle in," he answered with a smile, "because there's something upstairs you need to see."

Daniel had already pulled the sleeping new arrival from her car seat, and the five of them – three on their feet, two held firmly in warm arms – tromped up the stairs. At the doorway to the guest room, Jack set Sam carefully on her feet. "Welcome home, Major."

Confusion swam through her, but she wasn't going to get any answers from her teammates. Slowly, carefully, as if something might jump out and bite her, she turned the knob and pushed the door open.

"Holy Hannah."

The once rather dull, neutral guest room had been completely transformed. The walls were a bright, cheerful yellow, complete with a Winnie the Pooh border for a chair rail. The bed that had once taken up most of the room was gone, replaced by a small futon against the wall, which left room for an antique crib and dresser. The only other piece of furniture was an old-fashioned wooden rocking chair.

And about a foot from the ceiling, they'd installed a shelf that teemed with stuffed animals, old and new. Teddy bears, an original Raggedy Ann and Andy set, a pink elephant… the entire room was surrounded with them.

"I don't know what to say," she breathed, and when she turned to face her friends, she was blinking back tears. "Thank you."

"Teal'c painted," Daniel supplied, "and Jack and I found the furniture. But we have a baby mattress and everything you need set up in the living room so you don't have to do the stairs, if you don't want. There's, um… there's stuff everywhere. It's been coming from the base for days. Dolls, clothes… everything."

Even as a smile spread across her face, she smudged away a tear with the back of her hand. Everyone on base had been quietly supportive, but she knew the word had gotten around that she might not keep the baby, and they hadn't pressed her. Once she'd changed her mind in the hospital, it hadn't occurred to her that the base would also change its mindset en masse.

"There are, like, eighty teddy bears in this house, Carter. And I swear I'm only responsible for one. Okay, two."

A laugh bubbled up at the colonel's words, but the action tore through her stomach again. "I think I'll take that pillow now," she grunted.

"Probably a good idea. Let's get you settled downstairs."

Though they were Jack's words, this time, Teal'c scooped her up, and the company marched back downstairs. Daniel carefully placed the tiny, wriggling newborn on her chest after the large Jaffa settled Sam on the couch, and both girls were asleep within minutes.

~/~

"Eat, little girl," Daniel pressed, jiggling the bottle against the newborn baby's mouth. "You can't be full yet. You haven't even eaten an ounce."

"Infant Carter's stomach is quite tiny," Teal'c reminded him softly, careful not to wake the new mother who slept soundly on the couch a few feet away. She was recovering well, but she'd been sleeping a lot more than normal. Thankfully, Aimee slept a lot, too, but the guys were doing their best to make sure Sam wasn't disturbed, keeping someone with her whenever possible.

"I know it is, Teal'c, but not that small!"

"Burp her," Jack recommended as he set their dinner plates on the coffee table.

"Uh... sure." Carefully, anxiously, he shifted the tiny girl to his shoulder and began to tap her softly on the back. "Um, it's not working."

"Ya think?" he asked softly. "Sometimes I forget that just because you've delivered babies doesn't mean you've dealt with them. Come here, Little Bit." Jack shifted the baby onto his own shoulder and patted her much harder than Daniel had.

"Isn't that hurting her?" the younger man asked.

"She's tougher than you think. Look at her mother."

Daniel glanced pointedly at the pale, slumbering woman on the couch.

"Okay, bad example," Jack relented. "Come on, baby, show Uncle Danny how it's done." On cue, the child let out a sound larger than her tiny lungs should have been able to, and Daniel looked up with a start.

Sam, too, blinked sleepily. "Nice one, sir."

"I know, right? Good job, kiddo," he praised softly as he bounced her over to the couch. "You wanna see Mommy?"

Sam pushed herself gingerly to sitting and set a pillow in her lap for Jack to lay the baby on. "Unless you want me to keep her so you can eat," he offered. When she declined, he handed off the little girl and sat next to her, balancing both of their plates on his lap so she could eat, too. "Good?" he asked.

She beamed at him. "Thank you."


	22. 8,3

It was two weeks later when it all hit the fan.

Jack should have seen it coming. Really. Other than the issues they'd had in her first week back from the planet and the day she'd freaked out on Daniel, there had been no major emotional upheaval, just… acceptance. She had weathered it all with grace – as Carter usually did.

Okay, the pregnant, hormonal mood swings didn't count.

And the screaming infant when he opened the front door wasn't really a clue. Babies cried – that was life. It was the tight, anxious look on Daniel's face and the way Teal'c didn't quite meet his eye that told him something was wrong.

"It's not been a good day," Daniel told him.

"Jack?"

The soft female voice that was clearly not Sam's sent him spinning on his heel. "Sara," he greeted, the tension from his teammates leaking into his own voice. "It might be a good thing you're here."

"Something wrong?" Sara had been a near daily presence since the baby was born, but things had been going well – up till then.

"The child has slept and eaten appropriately, yet will not ease," Teal'c told her.

"I… see." To her credit, Sara had never once commented on the man's odd mannerisms or the symbol on his forehead. "Well, let's go help, huh?"

The pained wails drew both O'Neill's to the living room where Sam paced in frustration. She held the infant in front of her, their heads merely inches apart as the baby screamed in her mother's face and Sam demanded back, "Why won't you be quiet? I don't know what you want!"

Tears streamed down both tight, screwed up faces, one chubby and red, the other pale and gaunt. Jack knew the scene well – this day came for every parent, one way or the other. A baby's screams were the most grating, painful sound on the planet. Biology made sure of it.

"I remember these days," Sara said softly.

"Yeah. They sucked." Five quick steps took him to his 2IC, though he could hear Sara calling his name, and he touched her shoulders. "Carter."

Red, teary eyes lifted to his. "She won't stop. I don't know what to do," she cried. "She's been like this for hours."

"Okay. Take a breath. It's gonna be okay." A quick check of the baby's forehead told him there was no fever – little Aimee was just frustrated with life. It happened. "Can I give it a shot?"

"Go for it, sir." Thrusting the infant at him with a bit more enthusiasm than necessary, she took advantage of her free hands to scrub at the tears on her face before retreating to the couch.

"Hey, Little Bit," Jack soothed, lifting Aimee gently to his shoulder to rub her back. The tiny child's entire torso was smaller than his hand. "What's the deal, huh? Screaming at Mommy isn't very nice, you know."

The words were unimportant, the tone soothing as he held the baby tightly, nearly surrounding her in his large, muscled hands. His warmth and soft rocking eventually won out, and the screams slowly faded to whimpers, then silence as the exhausted child gave up fighting altogether and closed her eyes.

But when he glanced up at Carter to offer Aimee back to her, he realized his mistake. Making the crying stop hadn't made her feel better – it had just made matters worse as he handily solved the problem she couldn't. With her own child. Her face was buried in her hands, shoulders heaving badly with quiet sobs.

"Aww, Carter…"

She sprung off the sofa as he sat down and rocketed toward the steps, her physical pain all but forgotten. He started to follow, but his ex-wife's stern words stopped him. "Sit your ass back down."

Daniel, of course, was the next to go for the steps, but a strong hand held him back, too. "Stop. Everybody stop," the older woman ordered before turning her glare back to the man on the couch. "That wasn't the dumbest thing you've ever done, but it's damn close."

Sufficiently chided, Jack didn't even try to respond before his ex-wife rushed up the steps to comfort the woman that – as a woman – she knew better than all of them.


	23. 9,1

**Part Nine: Deprivation**

_There are times when a battle decides everything, and there are times when the most insignificant thing can decide the outcome of a battle.  
~Napoleon Bonaparte_

The tension in the room didn't exactly decrease with Sara's exit. Luckily, if baby Aimee felt the stress radiating through Jack's arms, she was too tired to complain – she slept soundly. He knew he should put her down, but somehow his ties to her got more tenuous each day, and he just couldn't bring himself to let her go.

When Daniel and Teal'c perched on the furniture and stared expectantly at him, there was only one thing he could say.

"Shit."

Silence reigned for an interminable stretch, all three uncomfortably on the edge of their chairs.

"Major Carter is a strong warrior," Teal'c said finally.

"That's the problem, Teal'c," Daniel answered. "That's all she knows. And we can give bottles and change diapers and dote on them all day, but we can't… guide her on how to be a mother. I don't know how."

"None of us do." Neither man missed the way Jack's forehead wrinkled and his face turned ever so slightly into the baby in his arms. And with nothing else helpful to say, the room went quiet again.

Until Sara O'Neill came charging back down the steps, anyway. She didn't slow her pace, didn't even look at them, just snapped, "_Jonathan_!" and continued toward the kitchen.

That, of course, only upped the ante on the tension, and Daniel let out a low whistle. Never had he heard someone speak to Jack in that tone – _ever_. Not a general, or even a psychotic alien… no one.

It occurred to the younger man, as Jack wordlessly pushed himself off the couch and handed off the baby, that Sara could teach him a million new and interesting ways to push Jack O'Neill's buttons. But since Sara and Sam were probably the only two people in the world that Jack wouldn't punch, it probably wasn't a good idea.

Even Jack wasn't fully prepared for what was coming. He'd taken Sara's dress-downs before, but this wasn't about them – it was about Carter. And while he knew that, in Sara's mind, anyway, this was all his fault, he wasn't sure why. Yet.

"What the hell are you doing?" she hissed softly.

"Apparently making things worse," he shot back. When her angry stare didn't relent, though, his false bravado shattered. "I don't know what to do."

She sighed, the tension draining from her shoulders, as well. "Yes, you do," she insisted softly, "and I just don't know why you won't do it."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't you? Jack, I know you guys want the best for her. I've seen it. I've watched you all try to help her, but the reality is that she needs more than your friendship. Friendship fades. Things change. People get reassigned. She needs a commitment, Jack."

He shook his head as the reality of her words sank in. "She's my second, Sara."

"No, she isn't. She's a woman," Sara pressed, "with a baby. And she is _terrified_."

"But we don't…" He sighed. "We're not like that."

"Then you're deluding yourself. Which shouldn't surprise me," she added, "because you're good at that. But Jack… you can't hide from me. I've seen the way you look at her, and I know that look. Because you used to look at me that way."

He had forgotten how well this woman knew him, despite the secrets and the Special Ops. And how she was so completely unafraid to talk about the deep, dark things they shared – to a fault, as far as he was concerned. It had driven them apart.

And yet, that same courage had been brought back out for Sam… at his request. He supposed, if his ex-wife could suck it up after all that, he oughta step up.

"I always thought… she deserved so much more than this," he said softly.

"You and I know better than anyone that life doesn't always go how you plan it. Sometimes you just have to make the best out of what you're given."

"That," he said pointedly, "I really suck at." He was far better at turning bad situations into tragic ones. The breakup of their marriage after their son's death was just one shining example.

"I know. But I have faith in you, even if you don't. Now," she announced, loudly enough for the men in the living room to hear, "I was promised dinner."

Daniel's voice echoed back. "Hear, hear!"


	24. 9,2

Things had been strained between Sam and her team since the incident – she hadn't come out of her room for the rest of the night, speaking only when Sara took the baby up to her before bed. And while the guys had kept up their presence, making dinner, running errands, and cleaning, the atmosphere had changed. Sam was quiet, reserved, and she rarely let Aimee out of her arms, let alone her sight. She was apparently bound and determined to do this alone.

The problem was, she didn't look a bit happy about it.

Given the state of things, Jack was pretty damned surprised when Sam came down the steps empty-handed and requested softly of Teal'c and Daniel, "Could we have a minute?"

"Uh… sure, Sam." The two men quickly disappeared.

Whatever was happening, she had a plan – she always had a plan – so Jack didn't move from his place on the sofa. Sure enough, she perched on the other end of the couch. "I wanted to apologize, sir, for the other day."

"No need, Carter."

"There is, sir. I shouldn't have freaked out on you like that. You were just trying to help."

"Sleep deprivation does funny things. Don't worry about it."

"I know. It's just…"

"Carter," he interrupted softly, "when Sara and I first got married, there was this big story in the news about a local guy who shook his newborn to death. And I… I couldn't imagine that. I wanted to kill him – I mean, who could do that to a baby?"

The memory almost made him shiver. He and Sara had talked about it for hours, what a monster the man had been, how a good person could never do such a thing. Until…

"And then we had Charlie," he said softly, and Sam's head jerked up at the name. Throughout all of this, he'd never once mentioned his son. "And Charlie had colic, which is a fancy medical way of saying that he cried _all the time_. And suddenly I understood, a little, how a guy could get so frustrated that…

"A baby crying is like a thousand piercing needles, Carter. And when it's your own kid, it's even worse, because… because you're supposed to be able to make it stop. But sometimes that just isn't the case. Bigger hands, smaller hands, warmer skin – there's no way to know what they want. And it sucks. There were a couple of times that she took him away from me, and I knew it was because she was afraid he was getting under my skin."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "Is this supposed to be a pep talk, sir? 'Cause it's a bad one."

Well, that was the thing. He wasn't really sure how she was gonna take this – she might hate him forever for it. "I forgot how hard it was to take care of a newborn, even with two of us. I think the only thing that got us through, really, was that we loved him so much. That we'd wanted him so badly. But you…"

_Screw your courage, O'Neill. Just spit it out._

"Carter, I know we said we weren't gonna push you, but I've gotta wonder if we affected you anyway. And you can't… I mean, are you doing this because it's something you want? Are you doing this for you? Or for us?"

Her blink was so long he wasn't sure you could even still call it that. "Sir… are you asking me… _if _I love my daughter?"

"No. No, I know you do. Just… this is hard enough, right? And it can't be any easier when she just reminds you of things you'd rather forget."

She exhaled as though he'd punched her. "Is that how you see her, sir? As _his_ child?"

"No, but I can understand how you would. If you don't want to do this…"

"I don't delude myself, sir, that I've given myself anything less than a life sentence. But I…" Something on her thumbnail fascinated her for a long moment before she looked up again. "Sir, do you believe that you're you because of who your parents were, or because of how they raised you?"

That was a trick question; he was sure of it. He just didn't know where she was going with it, and so had no idea what the right answer was. "Um, a little of both, I guess."

"How so?"

Crap. "Well… I guess I think that there are certain things that are just in your DNA, and the rest is learned. I mean, they know that alcoholism and stuff like that is in your genes."

"A predisposition for it, anyway."

"Right. But… I think it's mostly learned. How you treat people, that kind of thing – that's learned."

She nodded. "So then you'll understand when I tell you… all the evil this little girl should ever have to know is already inside her. I need her to grow up respecting life. Respecting people. Really, sir, in the grand scheme of things, the best thing anyone can do for society is pass love on to their children, and the only way I can make sure of that is to do it myself."

He'd never thought of it quite like that – that handing her over to a stranger could turn out as badly as giving her back to her father. He nodded.

"And for the record, sir, I love her. More than I ever thought possible. It's just… not what I expected, you know? This wasn't how it was supposed to happen."

"I know."

"You know what scares me most?"

For the life of him, he couldn't imagine. She'd been knocked upside the head by so many things in the past year, it was hard to nail down.

"Some day, she's gonna ask me about her father. And I have no idea what I'll tell her."

Jack sucked in a deep breath as his conversation with Sara rolled through his head. There would never be a better opening than this. It was now or never. "Carter-"

Beside her, a small whine sounded through the baby monitor, and Sam sighed. "Go back to sleep, baby," she willed softly.

But little Aimee had different ideas, and the whine turned to a cry that heralded worse things. Her mother sighed and pushed to her feet, but Jack stopped her with a hand on her arm. "I'll go get her."

He half-expected her to stop him, to insist on going herself, but she settled back onto the couch. "Thank you."


	25. 9,3

Daniel tried to ignore the constant movement behind him as he slowly and methodically documented the ruins SG-13 had found on M3X-552. It was a pretty sweet moon – the red giant it orbited loomed massive in the eastern sky, the two other moons currently visible off to the left.

But Jack wasn't paying attention to any of that. He had, thankfully, stopped pacing back and forth right behind the archaeologist, but settled instead next to the lake and started skipping rocks across it. And the rocks, Daniel knew, were pieces of the ruins. He really hoped there was nothing important – the one symbol that was key to survival or something – on the rocks that were quickly finding the bottom of the lake.

Skipping rocks didn't last long, and Jack resumed pacing. Daniel locked eyes plaintively with Teal'c, but when he realized that wasn't going to get him anywhere, he set down his notebook. "You know, it's a good thing I don't get motion sickness."

Jack stopped. "Huh?"

"Because you won't stop _moving_," Daniel pressed. "Seriously. This is over the top, even for you."

His friend looked a little like he'd just gotten caught with the last donut halfway into his mouth. After a second, he spun around, found a good spot, and sank down against one of the ruins.

It was the fact that Jack _didn't _have a witty comeback that told Daniel he was right – something was seriously bothering the man. He had a feeling he knew what, too, but he wasn't going to bring it up. Things were already moving in the right direction without his meddling.

The archaeologist went back to his work, but it wasn't long before he heard fidgeting behind him again – of course. When he opened his pack, the man jumped to his feet. "You done?"

"No," he answered patiently, "I'm just getting my camera."

"Oh." He started pacing again.

Daniel watched his friend for a moment with ever-increasing irritation. "Good Lord, Jack!" he exclaimed finally. "You're like an addict who needs a fix!"

The colonel pinned him down with sharp eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't," Daniel muttered. "I'll make you a deal – if I can have thirty _uninterrupted_ minutes, I'll be done, and we can go home." He wanted to add 'to Sam and the baby,' but thought better of it.

"Deal."

~/~

He would never, ever admit anything to Daniel – and certainly not before talking to Carter – but his blood pressure dropped back to normal levels and he could practically feel the jitters fade as he pulled into her driveway and parked his truck. He missed the warmth of that tiny little life in his arms, the way she cooed and purred and grinned reflexively at him. His friend was right – he was an addict, just of a different sort.

Baby Aimee was on her back on a blanket in the living room, a playset suspended over her head. She gurgled contentedly, batting with uncoordinated limbs at the creatures flying above her. Otherwise, the room was empty... though something delicious wafted in from the kitchen.

"Hey, Little Bit," he murmured in what Daniel had dubbed his 'baby voice,' leaning over to scoop her up and cuddle her against him. "Mommy left you by yourself, huh? Don't tell me she's in the kitchen, cooking. I don't buy that for a minute."

Aimee sneezed at him, and he chuckled. She was ridiculously cute.

"Bless you. Where's Mommy, huh?"

"She's taking a shower."

The male voice threw Jack for a loop, and he tensed in expectation as he raised his head to meet the man's eyes. "Jacob," he greeted, his voice lighter than he felt.

"Jack."

"You cookin'? Smells good!"

"Jack," the elder Carter repeated.

"Jacob." Well, this was trouble.

"I got here a little after lunch today to spend some time with my girls," he began, not leaving his looming spot in the doorway. "And when Sam decided to take a shower, I went to take my stuff up to the guest room."

Definitely trouble. Jack pulled the little girl a tiny bit closer to his chest.

"It's a nice setup in there, really, though the couch... thingy..."

"Futon," Jack supplied.

"It's a little small. But I imagine you know that."

"I did buy it," he defended. Watching the fire coming and throwing himself into it were two entirely different things.

"Uh-huh. And the boxers thrown over the back came with it?"

"No, that was just part of the decorating scheme."

Jacob glared at him.

"Hey, aren't you the least bit grateful they were in the guest room and not Carter's?"

"Yes," he answered flatly. "Yes, I am. But I still want to know – how long have you been living in this house?"

Well, he wasn't gonna lie to the man. "Since she was about three months along, mostly."

"That's a long time." When Jack didn't answer, he pressed, "What are your intentions, here, exactly?"

He shrugged a little. "Hopeful? Look, Jacob, I'm trying to be here for her in any way she needs. This is hard on her. But if you're telling me to back off-"

"I'm telling you," he interrupted, "that I can't be here as much as I want to be. And that – and it pains me to admit this – I don't know her well enough to make these decisions for her. But you're right, Jack. This is hard on her, and she's not exactly herself right now."

"I know."

Jacob let out a heavy sigh. "Look, Jack – she would follow you anywhere. All I'm asking is that you make sure the road you choose to lead her down is the right one."

"The right one what?"

Both men started at Sam's voice. "Hockey team," Jack answered evenly. "Talkin' about brackets, that's all."

"I didn't know you liked hockey, dad."

"Uh... Selmak likes it," he defended, stepping further into the room to let his daughter in.

"Uh-huh." Clearly not buying it, she stepped past him and gathered Aimee into her arms. "Hello, my beautiful little girl. Are they fighting over you? Tell them you're cute enough to go around."

"Of course. She is a Carter," Jacob put in.

Jack snorted.

"Did you cook, Dad? Something smells amazing."

"Pork and mashed potatoes," he told her. "My favorites."

"How generous," she laughed.

They headed toward the kitchen, but Jack held back. Except when he was off world, he and Carter had shared just about every dinner together since the day he'd found her holed up there, but with Jacob in the picture, he felt rather like he should just grab his bag from the nursery and leave.

"Jack." Jacob stepped back into the doorway, wooden spoon in hand. "I made extra."

The two exchanged a long, serious look before Jack headed toward the kitchen. "Sweet."


	26. 10,1

**Part Ten: Who I May Be**

_I know who I am and who I may be, if I choose.  
~Miguel de Cervantes_

Sam watched Colonel O'Neill with growing concern as he brought load after load of groceries into the kitchen and put them on the counter. When he started putting things into the refrigerator, she stepped up. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know, my _child_?" The last word contained not a hint of amusement, but Jack looked up at her with a smile on his face.

"Nope."

"Not funny. Where is she?"

"She's with Janet for a few hours. Cassie's thrilled."

"I… okay… why?" She was a bit annoyed that the colonel had handed off her daughter without asking, but more puzzled.

"'Cause I wanted to talk to you about something."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yeah." He stared at her intently for a moment, then went back to putting the groceries away.

The smile on her face grew until she couldn't hold back a chuckle, regardless of the ache in her stomach, and he shot her a dirty look. "What?"

"Sir… you went to the trouble to find a sitter – without telling me you were sending my daughter off somewhere, mind you – and tell me it's because you want to talk…. You did the whole action part without a problem, and you got to the talking part and chickened out."

"I did not."

"Did, too."

"Did not."

"Then what did you want to talk to me about?"

"I…" He ran a hand anxiously through his hair. "Dammit, Carter!"

She grinned. "That's what I thought. It's okay, sir, whatever it is. If you don't mind, I'm gonna use the peace and quiet to grab a nap."

She was halfway to the stairs when he caught up with her. "Carter, wait. I-"

As soon as she turned to look at him, he clammed up again, and she shook her head, smiling. "Is it better if I don't look at you? Is it the eye contact?" she teased.

Giving a small growl, he put one hand on either side of her head and shook her gently. "Would you stop?"

"I'm sorry, sir," she said, but the grin just wouldn't quit, and he knew she didn't mean it.

"Come on, Carter. I'm tryin' to pour my heart out, here, and you're making fun of me."

Her expression quickly sobered. "Um… what?" she asked, certain she'd misheard him.

"Look, Carter, I know you haven't had the easiest time of it lately." He rubbed the back of his neck in anxiety. "And there's been a lot of times that I've seen you going through something and you've had to battle it out yourself, and… and I hate that. Every time." He cleared his throat, staring at the floor. "And it hurts a little to admit that it took my ex-wife to tell me that this is not one of those things. You don't have to do this alone."

"I know that," she reassured him, smiling gently. "And I know that I haven't exactly made it easy on all of you… but I do appreciate the help, sir."

"Is that all?"

He was prying, looking for something, but she didn't know what. "I don't follow, sir."

"Right. What I'm saying is… that it's not just you."

She stared at him, uncomprehending.

"That you're not… _alone_," he pressed.

She shook her head with an apologetic look.

"Look… I fell head over heels for that little girl the moment I saw her. No – way before that," he admitted. "And I know it's crazy, but I want her to have everything. _Everything_. You following me yet?"

She had a sneaking suspicion that was making her chest grow tight, but she wasn't willing to voice it yet. "Uh, in the interest of not embarrassing myself, sir… I'm gonna stick with 'no' and let you explain," she murmured.

"We could be a family, Carter."

His second sucked in a deep breath, her eyes widening, and he pushed on before she could say anything. "She could have anything. The white picket fence and the dog and – okay, you're a cat person, but still – and a real, whole family. I know this was never how you planned it, but she'd never have to know anything different."

Her eyes slipped closed, and she turned away from him. "Stop."

"You wouldn't even have to give up SG-1. I mean, I'm way past retirement anyway, and-

"Sir, please, stop."

It was his turn to suck in a breath. "Okay."

Hugging herself tightly, Sam wandered away from him, stopping wordlessly in front of a window. It was dark outside, and he could see the trouble on her face in the reflection. Had he really just stuck himself out there to get shot down? He wasn't sure how to recover from that – _if_ he could recover from that. "Say something." He hoped it didn't sound like he was begging, but he desperately needed her to say yes.

"Sir… I appreciate… the sentiment. More than you know," she said softly. "And you're right – this wasn't how it was supposed to go at all. It's all out of order and screwed up. But I still… Call me naïve, but I still think marriage should mean something. It's not supposed to be for convenience. Even as messed up as all of this is… Somewhere out there there's someone who wants to marry me because they love _me_."

Jack couldn't help himself at that, and he started to laugh. Hard. Carter spun on him angrily, tears in her eyes. "What the hell is so funny?" she demanded.

"I'm sorry," he said, trying to bring himself under control. "I'm sorry. I'm an idiot."

Staring at the ceiling, Sam blinked quickly, trying desperately to stem the tears. "I'm going to Janet's. And we're just gonna forget this ever happened, okay?"

"No." She tried to get past him, but he caught her with a gentle arm around her waist. "See, this is what happens when I try to talk something out. I screw it all up." When she turned away, he wrapped both arms solidly around her from behind, preventing her escape. "I might have forgotten to say the most important part of all this," he murmured, his mouth brushing the back of her neck, "but only because I thought you knew."

She went deathly still in his arms at those words, hardly daring even to breathe.

"Carter," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the skin just beneath her ear, "I love you. I'm _in_ love with you."

"Sir," she whispered back after a long, tense silence, "I'm still really hormonal, and if you're messing with me, I'll have to kill you."

This time, his chuckle melted through her back, and her tension eased. She let her head fall away, and he eagerly took advantage of the access that provided him, gently caressing the side of her neck with his lips.

Eventually, she turned to face him, and he smiled, tenderly brushing the tracks of tears from her face with his thumbs before resting his forehead against hers. "You okay?"

"You mean it?"

"The 'I love you' part? Yeah, I mean it. C'mere." He shifted his hands, one settling on her lower back while the other tugged at the back of her neck, pulling her face to his. Their lips met tenderly, tasting, exploring, and when the kiss ended, neither stepped away.

"Wow," she breathed.

"I know; I'm great."

She just grinned and shook her head.

~/~

It was late that night when Jack got the baby to bed and knocked softly on Sam's door. "Yeah?" she called.

He stuck his head in, saw her under the blankets, and stepped inside with a smile. "I was about to go to bed. She's down."

"Thank you, sir," she said with a smile.

His eyebrow met his hairline in a move Teal'c would have been proud of. "Sir?"

"Sorry. Habit."

Nodding, he took a seat on the edge of the bed. "But we're good, right?"

The question surprised her, but she smiled. "Yeah."

"Good." Before she could react, he yanked back the covers and hopped into bed next to her. "Then it's settled."

"I – uh – wha-" Realizing that he had just pulled a classic O'Neill, she stopped protesting and just shook her head.

"Excellent." He snaked an arm under her waist and pulled her gently into him, pressing his lips to the back of her neck. "Night."

Her eyes flew wide in confusion – goodnight? – but she didn't protest. And his arms were warm, gentle, softly stroking the inside of her shoulder, and in minutes, she was asleep.


	27. 10,2

Daniel glanced at Teal'c in confusion when the front door opened to reveal Sam. It shouldn't have bothered him – it was Sam's house, after all – but for months now, Jack had consistently beaten her to the door. Either she'd been very, very pregnant, or she was recovering from a serious medical condition and surgery, and he was trying to make her rest.

"Uh, hi, Sam."

"Uh, hi, Daniel," she mocked with a smile. "Come in, guys."

"Where's Jack?"

"Zonked on the couch," she answered quietly as they passed the living room and headed for the kitchen, quickly unbagging the takeout containers they'd brought.

"Where is Infant Carter?" Teal'c inquired.

She grinned. "With the colonel. Who is zonked on the couch."

"Oh, this I have to see," Daniel insisted, and the trio hurried back into the hallway, the archaeologist leading the way, to huddle into the archway that led to the living room.

Jack had clearly not intended to fall asleep, one leg up on the coffee table and his head bent back at a painful angle into the corner of the sofa, catching flies. Two huge blue eyes peered at them from midway down his chest, where Baby Aimee lay contentedly in his arms, surrounded by his warmth. She was wide awake.

"That's... the most sickeningly cute thing I've ever seen," Daniel murmured. "Where's your camera? I need blackmail. Show this around the base and he'll never be able to intimidate any of the archaeologists ever again."

"Do you not fear your child will fall, Major Carter?"

"No." As if on cue, the baby moved a little, thrashing her arms, and Jack mumbled something in his sleep and pressed a massive hand over her chest, quieting her.

"So cute I might vomit," Daniel insisted.

"Well, don't throw up on the rug. Only the baby gets to do that."

"Must we not wake O'Neill for dinner?" Teal'c asked.

Sam frowned. "Damn."

"Ooh! Ooh! I'll do it!" the younger man volunteered, but Sam scowled at him.

"I'd rather the baby not get injured in the process," she insisted, pushing past him to where the two occupants snoozed – well, Jack was snoozing, anyway. Aimee cooed and flailed her arms at her mother's presence, and he mumbled something again. This time, though, Sam took the baby's arms carefully and tried to pull her up.

Strong arms moved possessively around the tiny body, his torso curling away from her as he snorted a little. Well, that was just ridiculous. "Colonel," Sam said softly. "Jack, wake up."

One dark eye opened to look at her. "What?" he grumbled.

She raised an eyebrow. "Give me my child."

"No."

The eyebrow hit previously unknown heights at that. "No?"

"No. She's warm, and I'm keeping her." An easy smile spread across his face as the other eye slid open. "Joint custody's a bitch, isn't it, Carter?"

She straightened and stepped back so fast she nearly tripped over the coffee table, her mouth working but only making nonsensical sounds. "I... bu... wha..."

"Hey, easy." The object of her consternation rolled up to standing. "If you really want her, you can have her."

"I... no... I – I mean, I do, but you... Uh..."

"Carter, breathe," he ordered softly, his face only inches from hers.

"I guess I – I... I didn't think you took it that seriously," she answered finally.

"What's the name of that movie, Carter? 'Yours, Mine, and Ours?' That's what she is now."

The watery smile that crossed her face matched her eyes, and she sniffled.

"Hey, no crying," he ordered. "There is no crying in baseball."

It worked – she laughed. "I love you," she breathed.

"I love you, too." Shifting the baby to one arm, he slid a hand around to gently cradle the back of her head as he leaned down to kiss her sweetly.

"Uh... Jack?"

The outsider's voice pulled them from their moment, and they turned to find their teammates staring openly at them. Daniel looked shocked. Teal'c looked... like he might have been smiling. An itty bitty bit.

"I think I'm seeing things," Daniel said.

"I knew it would happen one day," Jack told Sam. Loudly. "He's lost his marbles."

"Gone completely off the reservation," she agreed.

"Hey!" Daniel protested, but the colonel wasn't going to give up that easily.

"Looney tunes."

"Not playing with a full deck."

"I think this boy's cheese has done slid off his cracker," Jack quipped, and his stomach growled. "Hey... did you guys bring food?"

~/~

Jack and Sam eventually broke down and told the boys about the events from the previous evening, but only, Jack claimed, because they were going to need their help.

"There's a lot of planning to do and not much time to do it," the colonel announced, holding Aimee confidently in one arm as he ate with practiced ease with the other. Raising a child was apparently like riding a bike – even after so many years, muscle memory had kicked in.

"Planning for what?" Daniel asked.

"The wedding."

Sam choked violently on her chow mein, sucking for air as her face slowly turned beet red. Teal'c clapped her on the back a few times before patiently holding out her water glass, waiting for her to recover enough to drink from it.

Jack ignored her completely. "I figure Janet and Cassie can get Carter all taken care of, y'know, but I'd like to throw a reception for the SGC people. It'll be big; we'll need catering and crap. And I'm assuming Carter wants a big wedding, so we'll need a church and a priest who gets that we want this done quickly."

Big blue eyes could only blink at him in shock across the table.

"What?" he asked. "You wanna date awhile, kill some time, wait until she's old enough that she might actually remember the wedding? I thought the whole point was that she'd _never_ know."

"Still, Jack," Daniel put in, "that's, um... quick."

He shrugged. "We've been living together for months now."

"And yet not," he pressed. "Unless I'm missing something."

"You're not," Sam told him quietly.

"Yeah, so..."

"On the contrary, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c said. "O'Neill and Major Carter have been pursuing a relationship of sorts for years."

"Yeah, but that's... different..."

"Not really," Jack shrugged. "Carter, I can't vouch for you, but my feelings haven't changed for a long time. The fact that you maybe squeeze the toothpaste from the middle isn't gonna change that."

A long, slow breath escaped her as every man's eyes bored into her face. "Four months," she said softly, finally, obviously piecing the thoughts together as she went along. "Which will make Aimee five months. And since they say the average wedding takes a year to plan, that means... we should have started when I was two months along, and we can tell her..."

"We can tell her you found out you were pregnant and I proposed," Jack finished.

"Right," she breathed, still shell-shocked. "Which you haven't actually done, by the way."

He grinned. "I'll get there."

"And," she went on, "it gives me four months to figure out if I can live with the fact that you leave your dirty laundry everywhere."

"Right. I'll work on that."

"Sam," Daniel pressed, "are you sure about this?"

She shot him a glance that clearly said he was insane, but the glazy look in her eyes made it pretty clear she didn't have it all together, either. "By the way... I roll it."

"Huh?" Jack asked through a mouthful of egg roll.

"The toothpaste. I roll it from the bottom as I go along."

He sighed. Of course she did.


	28. 10,3

"I assume, knowing you two, that you have this all worked out."

Sam winced. "Not really." Luckily, General Hammond looked much less imposing sitting on her couch doing the itsy bitsy spider motions with her baby's hands, making the girl squeal with joy.

Her reticence clearly caught his attention. "Major, have you really thought about this?"

"Yes, sir."

His eyes moved slowly from her to the colonel who sat on the other end of the couch and back. "Have you _really_ thought about this?" he repeated.

"Ouch, General," Jack proclaimed. "I think I'm hurt."

"I don't want you to do something you'll regret," he pressed, ignoring the other man completely.

"Oh, now I know I'm hurt."

"General, I can tell you what I _know_," Sam told him. "I got six weeks' maternity leave, and doctor's orders to do nothing strenuous for those same six weeks. I'm not field ready, and I probably won't be back to that shape for months, sir. So command structure isn't even really a problem if I can't be on SG-1."

"And once you recover?"

She sucked in a breath. "Well, we all know how my last trip through the gate turned out."

"No one would blame you if you don't want to go back out there, Carter," Jack put in.

"I know, sir." At his look, she corrected, "Jack." But that drew Hammond's attention, and she muttered uncomfortably, "Colonel."

"Well, a lab position is certainly open to you, at least in the short term," the general assured her. "And after that, I suppose we'll have to see."

"Did you have a different plan, General?" she asked with a wince.

"Not one that included you marrying Colonel O'Neill," he grumbled.

Jack rolled his eyes, annoyed. "Really?"

"At least not in the short term. I would like you to reconsider field work eventually, and if Colonel O'Neill really plans to retire, eventually I'd like you back on SG-1. But I won't force that issue, Major."

"I'll keep it in mind," she promised.

"In the meantime, Major, I pushed through a few long-standing requests, and I can tell you that a lot of the mothers on base are going to be very happy with you."

"Sir?"

"Given the nature of your... situation, I managed to convince some of the higher-ups that not having a childcare facility would just be an added hardship on you. They approved the funding."

"She can stay on base?" Jack asked, clearly as excited as Sam.

"Twenty-four hour childcare will be available on one of the upper levels. They're working out the details."

"That's... great," Sam said.

"And as for _you_," he said, tugging at the infant's arms playfully, "you'll get to spend all kinds of time with Grandpa George." He wouldn't mention that that was part of his reasoning for pushing it through in the first place. Reluctantly, he handed the child off and pushed to his feet. "Well, I should get back to it."

"Sir, it's Saturday. Stay for dinner," Sam invited.

"Sorry, Major, I can't. But please promise me something."

"Of course, sir."

One last time, the older man's eyes shifted to the colonel and back. "Think about this. _Please_."

Jack jumped to his feet, ignoring the way Sam started to laugh. "Okay," he protested, "that's just mean!"


	29. 11,1

**Part Eleven: Distance**

_Like everybody who is not in love, he thought one chose the person to be loved after endless deliberations and on the basis of particular qualities or advantages.  
~Marcel Proust_

Jack didn't bother to sit up as three very excited girls – well, Cassie was excited enough for all of them, really – burst into Carter's house. Janet arched a brow at him. "Is that your version of tummy time?"

Grinning with affection, he glanced down at the tiny creature grasping and flailing at his chest as he sprawled out along the couch. "She's on her tummy," he defended, "and mine."

"Nice," Cassie put in.

"When she spits up on your tummy, you'll be sorry," Janet warned him.

He ignored her. "Did you guys find a dress?"

"Boy, did we!" the youngest of them exclaimed. "She looked amazing. Wait 'till you see it! It's got this, like-"

"Ah, ah!" He stuck his fingers defensively in his ears. "I don't want to hear it. I don't want to know anything about it except that it's white and it's not one of those tutu-skirt thingies. Not a word."

When Cassie looked confused and more than a little hurt, Janet explained patiently, "It's tradition, Cass. The first time he sees the dress, it'll be when Sam is walking down the aisle."

"Oh. I'll shut up, then."

"Thank you." Safe, he removed his fingers and returned his hands to their previous employ – rubbing Aimee's back tenderly. He noticed, though, that the one person who hadn't spoken was Carter, and she looked a lot more solemn than the others. "Just don't put it in the nursery closet, huh? I know there's more room in there, but it'll taunt me," he told her.

The look she gave him was something he couldn't quite place. Then Cassie said, "Oh, we didn't buy it yet."

"Why not?" His eyes never left his fiancee.

"Sam didn't want to."

"Oh?" Something heavy and dreadful settled in the pit of his stomach, and he moved the baby aside to kick his feet off the couch and sit upright. Why wouldn't she look at him? Surely she hadn't...

He had the horrible feeling he was about to be glad he hadn't laid out a couple grand on a diamond ring yet.

"We were just supposed to be looking," Sam said softly, still not meeting his eyes.

Jack caught Janet's eyes for a moment, and she seemed to be as floored as he was by her solemn demeanor. "Cass, we should go home and eat some dinner, huh?"

"But I wanted to play with the baby!" the teen protested.

"You know, that's a great idea," Carter spoke up, though her tone belied her words. "Janet, do you think you could take Aimee tonight?"

"Sweet!" Cassie exclaimed.

Whatever was in his stomach rolled sharply, and he clutched the girl a little tighter. No, this wasn't good at all.

"Um... sure, Sam," Janet answered, uncertain. "Let's go get her stuff."

It took them only a few minutes to gather up the requisite items – Janet had some things at her house already – before Jack was left alone in an empty house with a very closed-off woman. She stopped just inside the archway to the living room, and he got to his feet. "Are you okay?"

She nodded.

"Are we okay?"

She blew out a puff of air that hit him like a fist in the gut. That wasn't the answer he'd been looking for. "Jack," she said softly, "a marriage is supposed to be about sharing yourself, right? Full disclosure?"

"I suppose. More or less." The thought was more than a little bit scary, but probably true.

"Then there's something I have to tell you."

"Okay." He sank down beside her as she crossed the room and perched on the couch, staring straight ahead. It reminded him of yet another awkward conversation they'd shared nine months ago, and he wondered what could possibly be so terrible that she couldn't even look at him.

"There was another reason Janet was so overprotective when I was pregnant – the bed rest, the constant med checks. And why I couldn't give her up. I haven't... No one knows this except Janet and General Hammond."

He sucked in a deep breath and blew it out, preparing for the worst. He didn't know what that was yet, but he was fairly certain he was about to find out.

"There's, um... There's a lot of scarring," she said slowly, "from... you know. And Janet was afraid I might miscarry."

"But you didn't," he put in gently, hoping it was reassuring.

"No. But... it also means there's a good chance I might not be able to conceive again. And even if I do... I might never be able to carry a baby to term."

He knew there would be lasting emotional trauma from what had happened to her on that planet, but he'd never really considered the physical, aside from the changes associated with her pregnancy. Part of him was furious that the son of a bitch had done that to her – destroyed her future – but another part was just confused. Why was she so upset _now_? She'd clearly known this for months.

"I just... I guess I've felt a little bit like I'm dreaming," she confessed. "And looking at dresses today made it real, and I realized that I can't..." Twisting her fingers anxiously in her lap, she drew in a shaky breath. "I know how important a family is to you, and, um... I couldn't let you marry me until you knew. That we might never.... And if you want to back out, I understand. This isn't what you signed up for."

"It's exactly what I signed up for, Carter." Her eyes stayed downcast, but he turned his shoulders to pull her sideways against his chest. "I would love to have kids with you. But I love you. And I love that little girl. And if she's the only one we ever get, then that just makes her that much more special."

Carter lost her fight against the tears then, and one streaked down her cheek as she squeezed her eyes shut. "But... she isn't yours," she whispered.

"Yes, she is," he pressed. "She will be. And I don't ever want to hear you say that again, Carter."

Teary blue eyes finally met his. "You mean that?"

"Quit asking me that. I wouldn't lie to you." Her arms latched tightly around his neck, and he finally relaxed. He knew she was strong, but he'd put just a little too much faith in her ability to bounce back, he supposed, and he wondered how many of these little insecurities were going to eventually bite him in the ass.

It was a good thing he had pretty thick skin. And enough of his own fears and shortcomings to more than balance things out.

"Now, c'mere." Gently, carefully, he shifted her into his lap and nested her body closely into his own.


	30. 11,2

Putting the baby down had become Jack's ritual – it allowed Sam time to prepare for bed herself, which was a little more involved than Jack stripping down to his boxers and climbing beneath the covers. If he'd noticed that she was uncomfortable with the idea of him seeing her naked, he hadn't said anything – he'd probably just chalked it up to her discomfort with the new scar and the post-baby flab.

She wasn't going to correct him.

As usual, she was already comfortably beneath the covers when the bedroom door opened. Unlike any other time, though, his entrance was accompanied by a very familiar gurgling sound.

Twisting her head, her suspicions were confirmed – Aimee was still in Jack's arms. "Wide awake," Jack told her, "and looking around for you, I think."

"Really?"

Pulling the blankets down a little, Jack settled the baby on the middle of the mattress and stretched out on the other side of her. Sure enough, the second Sam leaned over, the little girl threw her arms wide with a grin. "I love you, too, Little Bit," she beamed, moving close to kiss the tiny nose. "Is that your nose?" she babbled, kissing her way down the baby's face until she hit the spot on her neck that made the little girl squeal for joy.

Across the bed, Jack watched the pair with ever-growing affection. The two women beside him had moved into a place in his heart he'd thought long dead.

"She's learning so fast," Sam murmured.

"Does that surprise you? Of course she's brilliant," he insisted.

She ran one long finger gently from the girl's hairline down to the tip of her nose, watching her smile and try to cross her eyes. "I never thought I could feel this way."

"I understand."

Two surprised blue eyes met his. "I'm sorry, I didn't think about that."

"Don't apologize. This is a gift." Abruptly, he scooped the baby up and climbed off the bed. "And Miss Gift is going to have to content herself with her mobile, because Mommy and Daddy have other things to do."

She was so momentarily awed by him referring to himself that way that she failed to notice the rest of that sentence until he returned and stopped in the door frame, silently appraising her. Long, confident strides carried him to the bed, his shirt and jeans disappearing along the way, and he slid easily beneath the sheets.

"Jack, I, um..."

"Yeah?"

"I don't have medical clearance yet," she managed, the anxiety in her gut rising to choke her.

"Okay." Soft lips met hers tenderly, tasting, suckling, and she reluctantly granted his tongue entrance. He pulled back. "You don't... seem very into this."

"I just don't want to get carried away and hurt myself," she said softly. "And if we start..."

She didn't think he bought it – she couldn't blame him – but he settled back and pulled her gently against his chest. "Are you okay?" he whispered in her ear.

"Yeah."

"You know you can talk to me about anything."

The way she stiffened had to give her away. "Yeah."

He sighed heavily into her hair. "I love you."

~/~

It was a familiar voice down the corridor that drew Daniel off his path to the chow hall.

A familiar, _loud_ voice.

An angry voice.

Jack.

He found his team leader in the process of giving some poor, quaking airman the dress-down of his life around the corner. "Jack?"

The colonel didn't even hesitate at the sound of his name, continuing to verbally trash the poor young man over... something. Daniel couldn't quite figure out what, as the words pouring out of his friend's mouth all seemed to be futuristic threats about how the kid would have no future and Jack would see to it that he got shipped off to Siberia for the rest of his career.

"Jack!"

"Shut up, Daniel!" the man snapped before returning promptly to his threats.

"Jack, whatever he did can't be that bad." But he winced as his friend turned on him, eyes blazing; he fully expected to become the new target of his friend's rage. He sent up a silent prayer of thanks as the anger slowly faded.

"Go," he grumbled at the young man who'd probably just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and the airman practically sprinted out of sight.

"What's going on, Jack?" Daniel asked conversationally.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Daniel." Anger carried him down the corridor so fast the younger man had to practically jog to keep up.

"Well, for the last two months, you've had this oddly contented thing going on. I suppose it only stands to reason that it has to balance out somehow. It is that Sam's back at work? 'Cause that could be stressful, you know, having her at work and at home."

"It's fine, Daniel."

"Okay... I'm sure putting Aimee in child care can't be easy, either."

"I said it's fine, Daniel," he spat.

"Jack." The archaeologist came to a dead halt in the middle of a main corridor and was almost surprised when his friend actually stopped to look at him. "I can help."

"No, you can't," the colonel said softly. "Not this time."


	31. 11,3

Daniel's eyebrows furrowed a little bit as he looked at the closed door in front of him. He'd knocked twice. He knew they were home...

Teal'c began to rifle through the small keychain he carried – it only held four keys – and moved for the deadbolt.

"Uh, Teal'c, I'm not sure I would do that."

"They may well be too occupied with the child to answer the door, Daniel Jackson."

"Sure. Or they may be occupied with... other things."

"In any case, I believe allowing ourselves in to be the most convenient option," Teal'c decided.

Daniel put a hand over the larger man's to stop him from turning the doorknob. "Unless the thing they're busy with is _private_," he pressed. And the way Jack had been acting lately, once he snapped... He didn't really want to consider the possibility of finding them naked on the kitchen counter. "Seriously, don't."

One black brow arched at him... and Teal'c walked in anyway.

The house was silent. Daniel couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing, but at least it seemed they weren't... y'know... somewhere nearby. Unless they already had and were asleep. Naked. The thought was disconcerting.

Abruptly, Teal'c stopped at the entrance to the living room, and Daniel, against his better judgment, peered around him. Sam sat on the edge of the couch, her elbows on her knees, staring at... nothing.

"See to O'Neill," the alien ordered softly before starting across the room.

She didn't move, didn't look up as he settled heavily beside her, and he allowed a generous distance between them. "Major Carter," he began softly, "in the weeks since your betrothal, I have noticed a marked decline in your happiness. None of us wish for you to suffer so. If you do not believe that this marriage is for your betterment, then it should be canceled immediately."

"Someone should tell him that," she whispered, her head falling low between her shoulders until she stared intently at her knees.

"I do not believe I understand your meaning."

"He shouldn't marry me, Teal'c."

Movement caught the Jaffa's keen eyes, and he glanced over her bowed head to see Colonel O'Neill standing in the far corner, just inside the door. The two men exchanged a look before Teal'c turned back to the woman beside him. "For what reason?"

"Because I'm broken," she confessed. "Because I'm not the woman he used to flirt with and make eyes at and... Because I'm not sure I can be what he wants from me. What he deserves."

"Major Carter," Teal'c pressed, "as a Jaffa, I was taught that my failings were mine and mine alone to bear. I carried that knowledge throughout my life, through the death of my father and the loss of many things. It was never more true than when I became First Prime, as I had no equals. None whom I could call friend. And even once I left his service, I carried the shame of my betrayal alone. But that was seven years ago," he said softly, "and the Tau'ri have taught me much. I have learned that in times of deepest despair, the only appropriate course of action is often the hardest."

"And what is that, Teal'c?"

"To permit those who love you to carry you through it."

Watery blue eyes turned up to meet his own dark ones, and he gave her a small, reassuring smile. Suddenly, her arms flew around his neck, her face burrowing into his shoulder, and he pulled her close, cushioning the sobs that tore through her thin frame.

From across the room, O'Neill's pained eyes locked onto his. He dipped his head only briefly in a nod before turning and leaving the room.


	32. 11,4

Baby Aimee was a fighter, especially when it came to sleep. Her eyes continually slid closed and snapped back open as Jack tucked her tiny feet into the footed pajamas she wore and fastened them tightly. "Sleep, Little Bit," he urged gently, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Mommy and Daddy love you."

Settling the drowsy girl in her crib, he cranked the lever on the mobile above it, shutting off the lights as he left to the sounds of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star." It was a short trip down the hall and, as usual, Sam was already beneath the covers, curled up with her back to his side of the bed.

He bit back a sigh. She'd been better since her little heart-to-heart with the big Jaffa, happier, less introspective, but nothing past lights-out had changed a bit. He could kiss her – chastely – hug her, hold her... but anything remotely untoward shut her off as completely as if he'd found a light switch. To say that it was frustrating was a severe understatement.

But Jack O'Neill had never in his life forced a woman – truth be told, he hadn't ever _needed _to – and he wasn't about to start now. He'd all but given up making advances.

His t-shirt ended up close – sort of – to the dirty clothes basket, and that was a small victory. His jeans, however, puddled to the floor, and he removed one very important object from the pocket before climbing into bed to wrap himself around the woman already there. "I have something for you."

"Oh, yeah?" She sounded more than a little suspicious.

His top hand wrapped over her shoulder to hold the black velvet box in front of her face and flick it open. Inside sat a shining white gold ring, the solitary diamond in the center sparkling even in the dim light. "Samantha Carter," he murmured in her ear, "will you marry me?"

The breath she took was shaky. "It's beautiful," she whispered back, "but are you sure you want to do this?"

"Positive. Certain. One hundred percent absolute."

After a long moment, she nodded. It was difficult with one arm already buried beneath her, but he dropped the box lightly on the bed and pulled the ring from it, slipping it delicately around her slender finger.

Unfortunately, the motion reminded him of something else entirely, and his body stirred completely without permission. He let it go, knowing she could feel his desire, wondering if maybe that night might be the night she would change her mind.

It wasn't. Her head ducked toward her chest in that way he'd grown to expect when she was uncomfortable with something, and he snapped the ring box shut and tossed it behind him. It landed – somewhere – with a soft thud.

It didn't matter, really. In a few weeks, they'd be married, and surely that would set her at ease. And even if it didn't... she'd come around. He'd waited years; he could be patient a while longer.

The sudden idea that she had been waiting until marriage sprung into his mind, and he almost dismissed it as ridiculous. But then again, he didn't know for certain that she'd slept with anyone – certainly not in the years since she'd joined SG-1. He hoped to God it wasn't true, because that meant her first time had been....

He wrapped his arms tightly around her and kissed her hair. "I love you."


	33. 12,1

**Part Twelve: The Big Event**

_Many of us crucify ourselves between two thieves – regret for the past and fear of the future.  
~Fulton Oursler_

"Sweetie, I hope you know how happy I am for you." Jacob squeezed his daughter's arms gently as he looked her up and down, her long beaded gown sparkling in the light.

"I know, Dad," she said softly, but she couldn't meet his eyes.

"Sammie." He pulled her eyes up to his. "_Are_ you happy? Because if this isn't what you want, you can still walk away. It's been a rough time for you. He'll understand."

She shook her head and plastered a smile on her face. "I'm just nervous. I just need ten minutes. Wait – what time is it?"

"Five 'til."

"Okay. Five minutes." She took a deep breath. "I'll see you out there."

Jacob glanced at the women behind her, then stepped out and closed the door behind him. "He's right, Sam," Janet put in. "If something's bothering you…"

"It's not… this. I want to get married," Sam insisted.

"To Colonel O'Neill?" her friend pressed.

"Of course!"

"Then why are you so jumpy?"

"This is gonna sound really stupid, Janet."

"Umm… there are no stupid problems, only stupid things to keep silent?" Cassie spoke up, well aware that that didn't even make sense but trying to ease the tension.

Sam met Janet's eyes and held them. "I'm really afraid," she confessed softly, "that I can't... that tonight…"

The doctor's eyebrows rose. "Cassie, go check with Daniel and make sure they're all ready, okay?"

The young woman suddenly got it, and her face mirrored her mother's, eyes wide. "Wait. You mean you and Uncle Jack haven't… you know… done it?"

"Cassandra, get out!" her mother yelled, and the girl promptly retreated. The bride-to-be sank into a chair, and Janet knelt next to her. "No crying. There is no crying. You're getting married in five minutes, and you're gonna have perfect mascara."

Sam sniffled, but nodded.

"I gotta admit, Sam, I hadn't really considered…"

"I know," she said softly. "It was a year ago. I should be over this."

Janet shook her head. "Sam, you were raped. He really hurt you. There's no timeline for that. Have you talked to the colonel about any of this?"

Mortified, she shook her head. "But I think he knows. Suspects, anyway, and he hasn't pushed the issue. But…"

"But what?"

"It's our wedding night," she said with a shrug, the simple motion belying her true distress. "What if I can't?"

Janet pressed a reassuring hand to her friend's face. "Then he'll understand. And it's one more step to recovery for both of you. Sam, this is Colonel O'Neill we're talking about. He loves you more than life itself. You know he won't push you. All this pressure… you're just making yourself crazy."

Sam blew out a breath. "I just don't want to disappoint him."

"Whatever happens, he'll understand." Janet got to her feet and pulled Sam up as well. "Now, come on. Everyone's waiting for you."


	34. 12,2

_A/N: You're all 17, right? You all better be seventeen...._

_

* * *

  
_

Sam's hand rested on the cool metal of the doorknob for much, much longer than it needed to. Only when she heard Jack's footsteps on the porch steps did she turn the knob and push the door open.

"Whatcha doin'?"

Plastering a smile on her face, she turned around to face her new husband. "Going inside?" she suggested weakly.

"Aww, come on. You know I'm a sucker for tradition." Handing her the veil he'd carried from the truck, he put one arm around her shoulders and easily scooped her into his arms, ignoring her surprised cry. He carried her over the threshold, kicking the door shut behind them, and didn't stop until he'd carted her up the stairs and into the master bedroom.

She might turn him down, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to at least give it a shot. A good one.

"Welcome home, Mrs. O'Neill," he murmured, setting her gently on her feet. He kissed her gently, lovingly, letting his fingers trail down her neck and over her bare shoulders. "You are so beautiful."

Blushing, she dropped her head, but she didn't pull away as he kissed her temple, then her cheekbone. His hands trailed around her arms to the zipper of her dress, and she shivered.

"Hey," he whispered, abandoning the zipper in favor of her chin. "You okay?"

She nodded – a little too quickly – but kept her eyes down. "I'm, um… nervous," she confessed, her voice no more than a breath.

His chuckle echoed in her ear. "It's like riding a bike, darlin'. You don't forget how." He trailed a row of kisses from her ear to the crook of her neck. "You're okay with this?"

"Yeah." Fake it 'til you feel it, she thought as the zipper slid slowly down her back. His kisses should have been intoxicating, but the fear in her gut was a big distraction. What if it hurt? What if she panicked? He'd think her a fool.

"I love you so much." He caught her lips and she responded eagerly, determined to beat back her fears. Sensing the change in her, he smiled into the kiss and let the dress slip to the floor between them. The corset she wore was simple, plain, but his eyes darkened as though it was the most alluring thing he'd ever seen. He skimmed his hands down it with a groan. "God, I want you."

Strong arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her easily out of the puddle of satin on the floor. Not to be outdone – and certainly not about to end up the only one naked – she pushed the tuxedo jacket off his shoulders, the weight of it collapsing to the floor behind him, before working on his shirt buttons to reveal smooth, muscled chest. Impatiently, he yanked the shirt off and reached for her again, alternatively nipping and soothing her lower lip as his hands slipped around her back and tugged at the laces there, tantalizingly pulling them from each eyelet, his limber fingers teasing and caressing her back.

"You know, it hooks in the front," she murmured against his lips.

Breaking away from her mouth, his lips trailed a line of kisses across the soft line of her jaw, pausing only to ask, "What's the fun in that?" Without warning, he caught an earlobe in his teeth, and she gasped as the sensation screamed through her body. "Feeling better now?" he chuckled, slowly making his way back to look her in the eye.

"Absolutely." The knot in her stomach had officially lost the battle with rising arousal, and her fingers found the button of his pants and flicked it open. She could do this. She wanted this – wanted _him_.

A moan that sounded suspiciously like her name escaped him as she carefully slid down the zipper, her fingers brushing the hard length beneath. Quickly kicking his shoes off, he stepped out of the pants and pressed into her, his lips hot on her neck as he pulled free the last of the laces. When he stepped back, he took the corset with him.

She stood stock still as he examined her, taking in every inch of pale, delicate skin as she stood in only a thong and her heels. Her chest heaved, making her breasts move deliciously. It was mesmerizing.

"Jack?" she whispered, and though a smile spread over his face, he didn't look up.

"You're incredible." His head ducked to her breast and he eagerly lapped at a pert nipple, sucking and teasing the skin around it as his agile hands slid the thong she wore down her toned legs. When she moaned in pleasure, he gently pushed her back onto the bed, easily sliding up beside her.

Reaching down, Sam started to take off the strappy heels she wore, but his hand stilled her. "Oh, no," he insisted, waggling his eyebrows at her, "those stay."

"Kinky." Her laugh quickly turned to a moan as he moved his ministrations to her other breast, one hand straying to draw lazy circles low on her stomach. The way the skin there quivered involuntarily beneath his touch was thrilling; he quickly abandoned the breast he'd been lathing attention on to kiss his way down her body, tracing every muscle. Tenderly, lovingly, he traced the line of a scar – the source of the _other _love of his life – with his lips.

Her hands tangled in his hair and she tugged him toward her face, desperately wanting his lips on hers. "Jack," she groaned in frustration.

He began a slow ascent, sucking and teasing every inch of her. His mission was vital, and he would not be rushed.

"God, Jack." The fingers became insistent, tugging, nails biting to the point of distraction.

"I'm not done yet," he growled, gently taking her wrists and pressing them to the mattress by her shoulders, pinning her.

He realized his mistake almost immediately.

A startled, frightened cry tore from her throat as every muscle in her body tensed beneath him. When he looked up, her eyes were wide, terrified, and she struggled earnestly to get out of his grasp. "Carter," he started anxiously, immediately releasing his grip and pushing to his knees to give her space. "Carter, I'm sorry. I wasn't-"

Choking back tears, she scrambled away from him and off the bed, groping desperately for something to support her as she gasped for air. All she could see was Lewen's face, feel his hands, the pain….

Jack could only stare at her, feeling like the biggest ass in the world. She had trusted him, let herself be truly vulnerable for the first time since everything had gone so completely wrong, and he'd blown it. Completely. Suddenly all her trepidation made sense – her words to Teal'c took on a whole new meaning – and he cursed himself for being so utterly dense. He could only imagine how far he'd just set back the fragile peace she'd found.

"Aw, Sam," he breathed. Quietly retrieving her robe from the hook on the door, he draped it gently over her shaking shoulders, and stepped back, trying desperately not to make things any worse. He had no idea what to say.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I'm so sorry."

"No," he soothed. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I never should have done that."

She clutched the robe around her as she spun to face him, her cheeks soaked in tears. "I wanted this to be perfect. I just wanted… I'm sorry."

He blinked. "Whoa, wait. You're upset because… because you think _I'm_ upset?"

"It's our wedding night," she whispered, crushed. "You've given me so much, and I can't even-"

"Sam, stop." He reached for her face, and when she didn't pull back, he gently cradled it between his two hands. "You're right. It's our wedding night. And this should be the happiest day of your life – or, at least, up there. I didn't…. I got carried away, and I'm sorry."

"Jack-"

"Sam. If you're not up to this, then I'll wait." He cleared his throat as the panic faded and certain parts of his anatomy began to ache. "As much as it pains me," he gritted out, "I'll wait."

The way she scrubbed the tears from her face said clearly just how frustrated she was with the situation – and herself. "You shouldn't have to do that."

"For better or worse, Carter. I meant that." Especially now that he knew her reluctance had absolutely nothing to do with him. Taking her hands gently in his, he tugged her toward him. "Can I hold you?"

"Please," she whispered, stepping into his arms. He hugged her tightly, his arms warm and strong, and Sam pressed her face eagerly into his chest. This man was the love of her life – strong and confident, yet gentle, compassionate, tender….

Abruptly, she pushed away and stepped back. "This is stupid," she said suddenly.

"Uh… what?" Something had changed in the blink of an eye, and, as usual, she'd left him in the dust.

"It's about control, right? They say it's not about the sex, it's about control."

"You mean… him," Jack said, pretty sure she meant the rape, but not willing to say any more if she didn't.

"Yes. And if that's true, then he's still winning."

"He's gone, Carter." He quickly corrected himself. "Sam."

"But he isn't. As long as he keeps me from living my life, he wins. He can't win."

"Okay…." He still didn't get it. "How do you intend to kill a dead guy?"

Without warning, she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him to her for a kiss different than any they'd shared before – dark, feral, demanding. It took every ounce of energy he had to turn off his instinct to shove her up against the wall and push her away instead. "Carter, what are you doing?"

"Taking my life back," she said with complete certainty. "Help me." The robe slipped away as she propelled him back toward the bed, and he cringed inwardly when his attempt to break his fall ended in accidentally grabbing her ass. She toppled with him, her lips dropping to his neck.

"Sam," he groaned. "Look at me. Look at me!" When she finally met his eyes, he found a determination there he hadn't seen in over a year. Still, he knew she was only trying to prove something to herself – and to him. "You don't really want to do this."

"Not only do I want to," she pressed, "I'm going to. Lose the boxers."

Oh, he wanted that, too. "Just tell me you're not gonna regret this."

A brilliant smile spread across her face. "I'm not gonna regret this. Jack O'Neill, I want you to make love to me."

The last of his clothing was gone in seconds, and he returned the kiss eagerly this time, matching her force. Scraping his fingernails up her back made her moan in pleasure, and he squeezed her shoulders firmly, then pushed her off of him.

"What?" she growled in frustration, her pupils wide with arousal.

Sliding to sit up against the headboard, he lifted her to straddle his lap before pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue sparring intently with hers as her hips twitched oh, so close to their goal. His hands found her breasts and skillfully squeezed and stroked the mounds to pert alertness before one hand broke free and teased its way down just to the top of her curls and stopped, seeking permission to enter the most sacred of places.

Sam broke off the kiss with a smile, meeting his gaze intently. "Yes."

He returned the smile with a wicked grin of his own as a single finger darted between her legs and flicked the tiny bundle of nerves there, making her hips twitch. When she didn't object, he began an all-out assault on the tiny nub, using his free hand to hold her in place. The eye contact was unbelievably arousing, and she held it as long as possible, until the pleasure overwhelmed her and her head fell back.

"Jack, please," she begged.

"Please what?" he asked, his own voice thick.

"I want you."

His own hips moved involuntarily at her words, and he swiftly pulled his hand away and clamped it to her rear, pulling her over his arousal. "Look at me," he gasped, and she met his eyes, knowing he sought any sort of pain or uncertainty. He found none.

"I love you," she whispered, dropping her hips to take just the tip of him. They both moaned at the contact, and she sank a little further before starting a gentle rhythm, each stroke a little deeper than the last. "Oh, Jack," she breathed, sinking deeper and deeper until at last she held all of him.

His fingers were clutching her tightly, and he forced them open, moving them to clench the headboard instead. This was her drive, her mission, and he was giving her complete control.

The pace she chose was relentless, and he groaned raggedly, smacking his head hard against the wall as the incredible sensations tore through him with every thrust. He was already so close, and by the look on her face, she was, too.

"Jack," she gasped, "help me."

The finger found its way between them again, and she cried out at the contact as he teased and taunted in time with her rhythm. It wasn't long before her pupils suddenly contracted and she cried out as her body convulsed and tightened around him.

"Carter," he groaned, and in two thrusts of his own he was a goner, pressing his head back against the wall as he exploded into her. Her head melted into his neck, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her as she shuddered in the aftermath of her climax. "I love you," he whispered.

She mumbled something incoherent into his skin as the tension drained from her body and she settled into him. He held her there, unwilling to let her out of his arms despite the protests from his legs bearing all her weight, and there, safe and warm in her lover's arms, Jack let her fall into a deep sleep.

~/~

It was hours later when Jack woke up to pins and needles stabbing him in the legs and a nasty cramp in his neck. As much as he didn't want to do it, he had to wake Carter and move her.

They ended up lying with her back to him, his arms under her head and around her waist, holding her tightly. It was something they'd done a million times before, but now, naked but for the rings on their fingers, it felt so much more intimate.

"Sam?" he asked softly, unsure if she'd already fallen back asleep.

"Hmm?"

"I need to ask you something, and you're not gonna like it."

She tried to turn to him, but he held her tighter, burying his face in the curve of her shoulder. "Jack," she said softly, "you can ask me anything."

"Anything?"

She chuckled. "I might not answer, but you can ask."

He pressed a soft kiss to her neck. "Sam, I love you. But I hurt you, not knowing… and I don't ever want to hurt you like that again."

"It's okay, Jack. You couldn't know." She had stiffened a little, but she stroked his arm reassuringly.

"I know. Exactly. So I need you to tell me… if there are other things." Her back went ramrod straight, and he knew he'd hit a nerve. He kissed her neck again and pulled her closer to him. "Sam, the last thing I want to do is make you cry. Please. I'm not asking for all of it. Just… tell me what not to do."

His face dropped to her skin in a long kiss, and he prayed that he could give her his strength, even if only there, in that moment.

"Tighter," she said softly, and he tensed his arms, squeezing her impossibly hard against his chest. They stayed that way for a long moment, breathing in time, before she began to speak.


	35. 12,3

They had opted out of any sort of trip or vacation – Jack hoping to spend most of the time in the bedroom anyway, Sam too afraid to put herself in the position of a fancy hotel room and the expectations that came with it. In the end, it was a good decision; the new-found lovers spent their six days in peace, learning each others' ins and outs.

The awkwardness stuck around far longer than it had with any of Jack's other lovers, though mostly because he was scared to death of hurting her again – doing the wrong thing, saying the wrong thing. He'd found out the hard way, for instance, that dirty talk just wasn't going to happen; anything he said about her body in anything other than the most worshiping way made her stomach contract and her face tighten uncomfortably. He was gonna need a really good dictionary. But he'd get one, and he'd learn (even if it hurt his soul a little to utter the words, "oh, my darling, your glistening alabaster bosoms are as beautiful as the snowy mountain peaks in the distance"), and they'd get over it.

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" Warm, slender arms wrapped around him from behind as his still astonishingly beautiful new wife pressed up against his back.

"Dictionaries."

She froze in confusion. "Uh..."

"Don't worry about it." Turning in her arms, he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and really wished there was time for more. "Hey, I have a question for you. A weird question."

"Yeah?" A knock rattled sharply on the front door, but she ignored it and tilted her head. "Shoot."

"You and Hansen – were you sleeping together?"

She blinked. "That _is_ a weird question. You mean, while we were both at the SGC? You mean on that planet?"

"No. I mean at all. Ever." It seemed the nicest way to ask about the one thing that was seriously bothering him – exactly how much of her innocence Lewen had taken away.

She furrowed her brows at him and broke away to head to the door. "He was my fiancé. Of course we were," she answered, and the levity didn't seem faked. "Then."

"Good."

That stopped her dead halfway down the hall. "_Good_?"

"I just meant.... Nothing. Answer the door." He couldn't explain exactly why that made him feel so much better – something to do with innocent schoolgirl fantasies and white dresses and puppies, he supposed – but it did. She'd been a normal person before, with a normal sex life, and they could find that again.

Sam swung the door open, admitting the whole gang – Daniel, Teal'c, Janet, Cassie, and a not-so-tiny-anymore infant that immediately garnered one hundred percent of Sam's attention. "Hello, my beautiful little girl!" she exclaimed, grinning wide as the baby's face lit up at the sight of her mother and she reached her pudgy little arms toward her. Sam eagerly scooped her away from the teenager who held her. "I have missed you so much!"

"Hey, guys," Jack greeted as his wife retreated from the door with the baby, the rest of them all but forgotten. "Come on in."

"We brought dinner," Daniel offered. "Didn't figure you'd done much cooking this week."

Dark eyebrows waggled suggestively. "More than you'd think."

The archaeologist promptly handed the massive bag of takeout to Teal'c. "I may never step foot in that kitchen again."

"Me, neither," Cassie agreed as Jack and Janet started to laugh. Sam didn't even notice, babbling incoherently to the baby while the baby – in her newest trick – babbled back.

"We brought a movie, too," Daniel called as Jack broke away from the crowd to tenderly kiss first Aimee, then Sam. "If you want us to go away, we will, but we figured it might be good for Jack to get some real human interaction time before he has to go back to the base on Monday."

"What's that supposed to mean, exactly?" Jack shot back.

"Only that your preferred form of conversation lately seems to be screaming at your underlings."

Sam chuckled. "A movie sounds great."

"Besides, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c spoke up, carefully eying the interaction between his newly married friends, "I do believe O'Neill's attitude has shifted."

"What makes you say that?" Cassie, always the innocent, asked.

"I suspect that the problem which caused his behavior has been solved."

Janet understood immediately, smiled, and hushed her daughter when she opened her mouth to speak again.

"Not entirely," Jack answered, earning a sharp cry of indignation and embarrassment from Sam, and he wrapped his arms firmly around her and his daughter with a grin, "but close enough. And we're working on it. _Actively_."

Teal'c merely nodded, Janet snorted with laughter, and Daniel turned bright red as he headed for the TV. "So... movie..."

"Yes," Jack pressed. "Movie. Teal'c, dish out the food! And do I smell... cake?"


	36. Epilogue, Part 1

_A/N: Just one more problem to deal with... I did foreshadow it, after all, and not following through on that would be very Joss Whedon of me._

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* * *

  
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**Epilogue**

_How do you say to your child in the night,_  
"_Nothing's all black, but then nothing's all white?"  
How do you say it will all be all right  
When you know that it might not be true?  
What do you do?  
~Stephen Sondheim_

Sam moved purposefully – not, by any means, anxiously – across the campus green, heading straight to the administration building. She knew this campus like the back of her hand, and though she hadn't spent much time there in the last, oh, three decades or so, she knew exactly where she wanted to go and how to get there.

Certainly no one else took her stride as anything but commanding. Cadets dove out of her way left and right, pulling up to tight, tense salutes. She ignored them.

The building had been rehabbed – a little – but she found the Commandant's suite with ease and headed toward the office of a man she hadn't seen since he held the rank of... Lieutenant? No, Captain. The secretary leapt to her feet in a hurried salute. "Can I help you, General?"

"At ease." Sam waved her off. "General Elliot called me."

The poor, anxious lieutenant's eyes nearly bugged out of her head. "Yes, ma'am." She hit a button on her desk and announced, "General O'Neill to see you, sir."

Elliot still had a baby face that would've made her smile under other circumstances, but being called away from Washington by the Commandant of Cadets at the Academy was not amusing in any way. She quickly answered his smart salute as he stepped out to meet her.

"What," she growled, "could she possibly have done to justify you calling me all the way out here? And _me_ – not Jack, who has nothing but time on his hands these days." Retirement was blissful, she'd heard. From her husband. Often.

A grimace crossed his features. "I think you'll understand once you hear the story. Come in, please, ma'am."

The two cadets sitting on either side of his desk sprang to attention as she walked in. To the right stood her daughter, looking fuming mad and not the least bit ashamed; to the left was a cadet Sam didn't recognize, sporting a black eye and a bandaged nose.

Sam sighed. "Did you do that?"

"Yes, ma'am," Aimee answered crisply.

"Why?" she asked with exaggerated patience. Her daughter didn't usually go around punching people, but still – she wasn't in the mood. And Aimee was nineteen and knew better.

"Because he deserved it, ma'am."

The older set of big blue eyes shifted to the cadet across the room. "You look familiar," she told him. "Black eye notwithstanding."

"That's Will Reynolds," Colonel Elliot put in.

"Reynolds?" Her eyes narrowed a bit as she looked him over again. Yes, it was possible. "Did I serve with your father?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Huh." She supposed she knew in the back of her mind somewhere that Reynolds' son was going to the Academy, but she'd forgotten. "And why, Cadet," she asked, turning back to her daughter, "did he deserve to be punched, exactly?"

The girl swallowed hard but didn't answer.

"Spill it," Sam pressed.

"He said you cheated on Dad," she answered finally, woodenly, never taking her angry gaze off Cadet Reynolds.

"Well, that's just ridiculous," Sam said before turning to the young man across the room. "Why would you even say such a thing?"

"That isn't what I said, ma'am," he growled.

"It's what you _meant_!" Aimee snarled back.

"I did not!"

"_Cadets!_" the general snapped, abruptly silencing them both. "It would pain me to think that you all spend your time here gossiping about senior officers. I'm not very interested in what he _meant_, just what he _said_. What did he say?"

The brusque treatment was well-deserved – Aimee was a cadet, after all, held to a high standard. But she felt more than a little bad about it as she saw the sparkling of her daughter's eyes and the way her jaw shook a little. Whatever had happened, she was really, truly upset.

"He said Dad isn't my real father," she managed finally.

It was Sam's turn to swallow hard – which she thought was pretty decent, considering what she really wanted was to run for the hills. She should have known this day would come, but she was blissfully unprepared. The acid in her stomach rose painfully.

"Oh, my God," her daughter gasped, watching her reaction. "It's true, isn't it? Oh, my God!"

"General," she breathed finally, trying so hard not to let her voice betray her, "could I use your office?"

"Of course. Cadet, out," he ordered Reynolds sharply, and the two men left, pulling the door shut behind them.

"Aimee..."

"How could you not tell me?" the girl demanded, tears flowing free. "Why? What-"

"Aimee, please." Holding her arms wide, she tried to embrace her daughter, but she was shoved away.

"Don't touch me. You _lied_ to me! You lied to _him_!"

"No," she answered sharply. "I didn't lie to him. And I didn't cheat. I would never. I love him."

Anger gave way to confusion, and she sniffled. "I don't understand. Then how?"

Sam scrubbed a hand through the hair at the back of her neck – a behavior she'd picked up from her husband long ago. "Can we sit down?" When both were seated, the chairs pulled close and her daughter's hand in hers, she continued. "I never wanted to have to tell you this," she whispered. "I never wanted you to know."

"That ship has kind of sailed, Mom."

"I know. So I need to tell you, before I say anything else, that you mean the world to me. That I love you so much."

She blinked. "Okay, now I'm a little scared."

"Sorry. But you know that, right? You know you're everything to me. To both of us."

After a moment, she nodded. "I love you, too, Mom."

Sam searched the floor for something that might help her keep her cool – she hadn't talked about that mission to anyone in over eighteen years, but it was still fresh. Finding nothing, she kept her eyes down and held her daughter's hand a little tighter. "You know about the team – that Jack and Uncle Daniel and Teal'c and I worked together."

"Dad was your CO."

"Right. And there was this mission..." She swallowed hard. "And it went so wrong. I was captured, and... this man, he... he kept me for seventeen days. And then I escaped, and the team – and Colonel Reynolds' team – found me, and Jack carried me home. And I.... I had you."

The breaths from the chair across from her were short, shaky. "He raped you."

She nodded.

Abruptly, the girl flew from her chair and out of reach. "God," she gasped. "How could you... How can you look at me? Knowing what I am?"

"What you are," Sam pressed softly, "is my child. My _only_ child. And you're perfect. And you're everything I dreamed my baby would be. It just didn't happen quite how I planned it."

"You didn't want me."

She sucked in a breath. True as that was, it seemed cruel to tell her... but she supposed, after holding it in this long, that her daughter deserved the whole truth. "No," she confessed. "Not at first. I was so angry. And hurt. That mission almost destroyed me – and it might have, if it weren't for your – for Jack," she finished uncomfortably, well aware that the word 'father' had unintended connotations with the story she'd just told. Pushing to her feet – old age was a bitch – she caught her daughter's face in her hands and held her gaze. "I fell in love with you the moment I saw you, but Jack.... He loved you long before that. He wanted you so badly."

"He did?" she sniffed tearfully.

Smiling, Sam nodded. "He held us together. He wasn't stuck with you, Baby – he _chose_ you. He loves you so much."

"I'm so sorry, Mom."

This time, she didn't resist as the older woman enfolded her tightly in her arms. "You are not him," she insisted softly. "You are not responsible for that man's sins. I love you, and you are perfect."

Sam held her for what seemed like hours, till the shaking subsided and the younger woman returned the embrace in earnest. Only then did she pull away and say, "But that doesn't mean you get to go around hitting people."

Teary-eyed, she chuckled. "Sorry. But he really did deserve it."

"And I might have done exactly what you did. But I'd take my punishment for it, too."

"I will."

"Good." Sam grabbed a box of Kleenex off Elliott's desk and waited until her daughter had cleaned her face and straightened her uniform before she asked, "Ready?"

"No, wait." The young woman's teeth found her lip in yet another inherited sign of anxiety – this time from Sam. "My... I mean, the man who attacked you. When you said you escaped, did you.... I mean, is he...."

That was one thing Sam had never told anyone – that she'd stolen the knife he'd used on her and slit his own throat with it – and she wasn't sure what the right answer was supposed to be. Again, she settled for the truth, albeit the short version. "He's dead."

"Good." Aimee sucked in a breath, pulling herself together before giving her mother a firm nod, a move so reminiscent of Jack that Sam's heart clenched a little. Genes or not, she was her daddy's little girl. "Ready."

Pulling the door open, the general beckoned Elliott and the young cadet back into the room. "General, she's prepared to take whatever punishment you see fit," she told him. "I would only ask that you take the circumstances into account."

"I will," he vowed. "I'll have to think about what would be appropriate. I don't particularly want to draw any more attention to this than necessary."

"I appreciate that. What did you have in mind for Cadet Reynolds?"

The man's nose wrinkled a bit in distaste. "While the whole situation reeks, ma'am, technically, he didn't do anything wrong."

The cadet smirked just a little, and Sam could practically feel her daughter gunning for him.

"Then I have a request. You saw fit to notify me about this little incident; it's only fair that you should notify his father, as well."

The smirk contorted into something vaguely resembling utter dread, and it was Elliot's turn to smile. "I think you're right, ma'am. It's only fair."

"Now, if we're done here, I need to shanghai a flight back to Washington." As much as she wished she could stay – her daughter could surely use the support – the paperwork in her inbox had almost certainly gone catastrophic in the mere hours she'd been gone.

"Of course. Cadet, walk the general to her car and report back here immediately."

Cadet O'Neill snapped a perfect salute. "Yes, sir."


	37. Epilogue, Part 2

Sam O'Neill stepped into her stately Virginia home and toed off her shoes. Her jacket slipped precariously down her shoulders as she made her way to the dining room and she let it fall, draping it haphazardly over a chair. Immediately, two still strong arms wrapped around her from behind, and she surrendered willingly into her husband's chest, letting her head fall back against his shoulder.

After a moment and a series of kisses down the side of her neck, he asked, "How was your field trip?"

Yanking away, she pinned his chocolate gaze with her own. "How did you...?"

"Elliott called to give me a heads-up. And shortly after that, Reynolds called, babbling incoherently about how sorry he was and how he didn't know how the little bastard could have found out in the first place."

"He didn't really call his own son that."

"No, that was me," Jack confessed. "The enormous thing of flowers in the living room is from him, by the way."

She sighed. "I hope it's impressive."

"It is. I believe him, you know. I don't think he told the kid – or anybody – on purpose."

"I know."

One large, now wrinkled hand came up to cup her face. "You okay?"

"Yeah. It's just... I wasn't exactly prepared. And that wasn't how I wanted to tell her."

"You didn't want to tell her at all."

"Well, there's that," she admitted.

"How is she?" he asked softly.

She sighed. "I think she took it well. She's a fighter, you know. But I wish I could have stayed – could have been there."

"Maybe I'll go out there this weekend," he suggested. "Unless you think she won't want me to."

The idea that the girl he'd raised as his own might not want to see him troubled him far more than he was letting on, she knew. "I think that would be a very good thing. I hugged her, and I told her how much we love her... but I think it would be good to hear it from you."

"Okay. I'll find a flight. Are you hungry?"

She shook her head. Bringing up that much old pain and hurt had left her nauseous. "Not even a little bit."

"Can I do anything?"

"You can hold me awhile."

Warm arms pulled her close, cradling her head against his shoulder as he began to gently rub her back. "Any time."

~/~

Jack climbed out of the jump seat he'd spent the last two hours crammed into and experimentally flexed his knees. No, they weren't happy at all. But he forced himself to grab his duffel and carefully exit the plane.

He wasn't even totally sure that she would be there. She'd been a little... distant over the phone, insisting that she was neck-deep in schoolwork and maybe he shouldn't even come. He'd told her that his flight arrived at 1435 hours, and he'd take a cab if need be.

He couldn't imagine what it must be like for her, having her whole self-image torn away in five minutes flat. No, she wasn't – genetically, at least – what she thought she was, and no, the man who she'd called 'father' for the last nineteen years wasn't. But he also couldn't imagine losing her, couldn't imagine being turned away by the little girl he loved more than life itself. He'd spent her whole life telling himself that genes didn't matter – that she was his in every way. What if she didn't feel the same?

Sunshine glinted off golden-blonde hair, and he glanced off the tarmac to his right. There she was – all slender, muscled, beautiful seventy inches of her. Just like her mother. But while her looks were Carter's, her expressions were his, and the one she wore was flat, unreadable.

Not many things scared him, but that face did.

The duffel swung neatly at his side as he approached her – not too close – and he dropped the bag at his feet. For the first time in her life, he wasn't sure what to do. "Now you know," he said softly, the weight of the secret they'd held for so long heavier than ever in his chest.

"And now that I know," she answered, just as softly, "do you still love me?"

"_Always_," he pressed.

Young, slender arms wrapped possessively around him as she flung herself at him, and he returned the gesture, squeezing her impossibly tightly against his chest. She was his baby... no matter what.

"I love you too, Dad."

_~fin_


End file.
